The Descent
by chromeknickers
Summary: The Fire Prince had died young—too young. But what's more was she was the one who killed him. Now Katara must find her enemy in the terrifying mist of the Spirit World. In life and death, their souls have become inextricably bound, and Katara will do anything to bring Zuko home. S1 story.
1. Chapter 1

This is my 2012 Zutara Secret Santa gift for **jesterry**. I hope you like it, m'dear. :) Please see prompt(s) below in the author's notes.

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**The Descent**

**۵ ۵ ۵**

_"Easy is the descent to hell, for the door to the underworld lies open both day and night.  
But to retrace your steps and return to the air above—that is the task, that is the toil."_

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_"Death twitches my ear; 'Live,' he says. 'For I am coming.'" _

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IT BEGAN WITH a tug at his navel, and suddenly he was being thrown up into the air. The icy wind sung in his ears as he sailed, like ephemeral music curling around his thoughts. When he finally reached the pinnacle, he exhaled, watching as his breath clouded and crystallised in the air.

There was an annoying pulse beating at the back of his eyes, like the percussion of war drums, and his vision blurred. Then there was this sharp, hot pain in his throat; drops of blood burst before his eyes and fanned out like delicate red tendrils. He gasped for air but all he could do was gargle; tiny red bubbles surfaced and stained his lips.

It felt as though he was being pulled in another direction—out onto the edge of something terrifying, over a cliff he could not climb out of. The music in his ears changed, its final notes becoming shrill and tinny. The beating of the war drums only grew louder, deafening and incessant. They would not stop; they would only burn like a tattoo on his heart until—

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INSIDE THE CAVE was no warmer than it was outside in the vast, frozen tundra. But it was relatively dry here, free from the icy wind that howled all too close to her ears.

Katara poked aimlessly at the fire with a stick while the storm raged its ceaseless anger, filling the opening of the cave with yet another fresh blanket of snow. The sky had become dark and the cave too, save the flickering fire at her feet that cast dancing shadows along the wall.

It had taken a few minutes but her heart had finally stopped racing. It was a relief to breathe normally again, no longer having to suck the air into her lung in short gasps. She felt oddly calm; huddled around the fire as the light from the flames rolled over her face and hair, giving her features a rusted, haunted glow.

His body lay cold beside her; his mouth was open in a faint O of shock. His hair was already drying; some strands had fallen loose from the knot, feathering over his closed eyes in wisps. That fair skin of his, that fine black hair, that painful red scar—everything was so stark and contrast, calling out to her.

_He looks so young_, she thought. He _looked_ so young.

The fire hissed at her feet, creating its own melody with the burning wood. It popped and crackled and she shivered, drawing her coat tightly about herself as she awkwardly shuffled away from the body. She was dressed warmly, but it was the North Pole and the night (or was it day now?) was cold.

A pack of wolves howled in the distance and she shuddered. She had no idea how to get back to the city from here on her own but she reckoned someone would come for her soon. Truth be told, she didn't want to go back quite yet. She couldn't, anyway. Not with _him_, not with the body.

_The body_.

She hugged her knees to her chest and glanced down at Zuko—so still, so motionless. Her eyes began to water and she quickly turned away.

The sky pulsed a dull red and she caught a glimpse of the moon hanging blood red behind the clouds. Something was wrong. She could feel it. She wondered if her brother and Aang were okay, and on the heels of a second set of howls she realised that it was not wolves she heard but the screaming of people from the frozen city below. Frightened screams carrying on the wind; fear was in the air. People were afraid. People were dying.

Katara's stomach churned in fear. She should run outside to see what was going on. She should abandon the cave's protection and help her friends. But the body beside her refused to let her leave. It weighed her down like the guilt in her heart so she could not move.

Yes, people were dying.

Katara should know; she had also killed today.

She turned back to the fire, blinking back the tears that had once again threatened to well. Her mind strayed as she stared at the bright red fire, hypnotised by the dancing flames. She remembered thinking that they would have been safer staying at the Spirit Oasis, but she was wrong—dead wrong . . .

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"WELL," A SARCASTIC voice drawled, "aren't you a big girl now."

Katara turned towards the familiar voice in dawning horror. "No!"

The fire prince slowly made his way down the steps. His hair was dark, pulled back in an unkempt ponytail as rebel strands broke free in wisps about his face. There were deep black circles beneath his eyes; the right one was bruised. He already looked beaten and exhausted. But those same golden eyes were just as bright and keen as she remembered them, and they were fixed solely on her.

His nostrils flared and his mouth worked into a thin scowling line, the muscles pinching painfully at the red scar that stretched all the way to his left ear. Despite the scar his face was incredibly pale, whiter than any face she could ever remember seeing.

His face scared her.

"Yes," Zuko rasped. "Now hand him over and I won't have to hurt you."

Katara hadn't even noticed that Yue had already run away. All of her attention was fixed on the enemy in front of her. Their eyes locked for an instant and Zuko's bright golden irises briefly shifted to a meditating Aang, eyeing him as though he was some sort of prize. Katara swallowed back the sick, frozen feeling swimming in her gut and deliberately shifted her body into a defensive stance, ready for anything.

Zuko was the first to move, leaping down the stairs as he kicked up his leg, sending a wide arc of fire her way. Next he moved with his fists, striking out like a boxer with rapid, successive movements.

Turning back and forth, Katara drew from the spring and met Zuko's every volley of fire with a wall of water, narrowly dodging the deadly flames. Then she gathered her chi into a tight cord and drew water from the pool again, shooting the powerful stream in his face. The force from the blast sent Zuko flying backwards and he twisted in the air before falling to the ground with a listless thud.

"I see you've learned a new trick," he said as he lifted himself back up to his feet, spitting the water out of his mouth. "But I didn't come this far to lose to you."

Whirling around, Zuko fired another blast. Katara blocked it easily, summoning yet another shield of water. The water hissed at the contact of his fire but she pressed on, trying to drive him back.

She wasn't scared; not anymore. She felt the same as if she got caught at the top of a very high tree and there was nothing to do but just climb back down the best way should could. It was a dead calm feeling. And though she had no idea where Zuko's next attack would come from, Katara knew that she could deflect his every attack. In fact, she met and matched his every thrust, even surpassing him.

Now she was pivoting, using the momentum of the water to encircle and ensnare the prince. The avalanche of water blinded him, reeling him back towards the icy walls. Each jet collided into him, never missing, and even as he attempted to steady himself from another impact, small juts of ice formed around his feet.

Katara's arms were moving fluidly through the air, gathering speed until they were whirling, forming the water into a giant ball with Zuko trapped inside it. There was a loud snap followed by a series of pops and crackles as the water quickly froze over, encasing the prince in the ice. Large silver drops of water scattered all around her, hovering in the air, and Katara smirked triumphantly.

"You little peasant!" Zuko spat indignantly from inside his icy prison. "You've found a master, haven't you?"

The globule of ice began to glow a bright orange with heat and the ground around them rumbled. Katara ducked as the ice trapping Zuko exploded into a thousand shards. He was already on his feet; he had broken free. Though tired and out of breath he somehow looked strong, fanning the fire hot and bright as he resumed his attack.

This time there was an unmasked fury to his assault, rage pounding in his fists and feet as he volleyed the fire. Wave after wave, Katara countered his attacks. She could feel the pressure drum in her ears and she became relentless too, building momentum as she went.

Now they were directly in front of each other, so close she could feel him trembling with white-hot rage. Her fists tightened painfully enough to crack, and suddenly they were launching themselves at each other in this now familiar battle for control in the midst of the chaos they had created. Fire licked, water roared and steam rose from the ground, from their clothes and from their skin.

Drawing a thick jet of water from the pool, Katara continued to deflect his attacks. She was prepared to strike when Zuko manages to slip past, skin grazing against skin. She turned in horror to see his fingers grasp at Aang's collar.

Now there was a fire burning in her own chest and she roared out, striking Zuko with a mean blast of water that sent him tottering. With a deliberate flick and rounded arc of her wrists, she summoned forth a monstrous wave from the spring and threw it at Zuko with all she had, knocking him upside the icy walls of the cliff. Her fingers curled and the water froze, pinning him against the wall and encasing him in ice once more.

Katara backed up towards Aang, her arms still raised in case the Fire Prince should attack. But Zuko's head hung limply to the side, his chin resting on the ice. She let out a shaky breath of relief and lowered her guard. She turned to look at Aang; thankfully, he was all right.

She glanced up at the sky to see that it was almost dawn. The early morning sky was a deep, silky blue and the moon had turned from silver to white. All was still. The only sound was her breathing and the gentle ripples of the waters as the fish swam in circles in the pond. Then she saw it—the flash of the sun peeking over the horizon—and suddenly she felt fear.

A scream of fury erupted from behind her and she whirled around in shock. Instinct took over and she tried to deflect the inevitable fire blast with a water shield, but it was too late. The force from Zuko's fire sent her flying backwards and she slammed into a tree. Dizzy, her vision dimmed as the sun burned brightly behind the silhouette of the Fire Prince who was now looming over her. He was holding Aang up by the collar.

"You rise with moon," said Zuko. "_I_ rise with the sun."

Vision fading, Katara shook her head and yelled out. But there were no words. She could not speak, could not move. It was no use. It was like yelling at a dam that was breaking; she could not prevent the inevitable flood. And with Zuko's words still ringing in her ears, Katara slowly drifted into darkness.

**۵**

"I CAN'T BELIEVE I lost him."

It was all she could think of the moment she woke up: she lost Aang and now their enemy had him. The Avatar was vulnerable and it was all her fault.

"You did everything you could," Sokka gently assured her. "And now we need to do everything we can to get him back." She glanced up at her brother, tears shining in her eyes. "Besides, Zuko can't have gotten far. We'll find him. Aang's gonna be fine."

He was right; and though she'd never admit it, he almost always was. This was no time for her to wallow in self-pity. They had to find Aang, so she rose to her feet and nodded confidently. "Okay."

Jumping aboard Appa, the three teenagers immediately took to flight, looking for Aang and the Fire Prince. But as they climbed high above the protective walls of the oasis, the frozen tundra unveiled before them was a vast and unforgiving terrain. A blizzard raged, obscuring both sky and land, but Appa would not be discouraged and neither would they.

"Don't worry." Princess Yue placed a hand on Katara's. "Prince Zuko can't be getting too far in this weather."

"I'm not worried they'll get away in the blizzard." Katara glanced down at a large crack of ice on the tundra below and frowned. "I'm worried that they won't."

"They're not going to die in this blizzard!" Sokka shook his head, exasperated. "If we know anything, it's that Zuko never gives up." His grip on the reins tightened as he blinked through the howling storm. "_They'll_ survive and we'll find them."

Again, Sokka was right. Zuko never gave up, and as long as he was alive so was Aang. Katara just had to be as patient and determined as her enemies. For it was patience and discipline she lacked; all her life Katara had known this strongly.

She was a passionate person and her passion and her beliefs were why she fought. In her heart she knew her cause was the noble one, the right thing to do. Even through all the toil and the heartache she had endured she knew it would all be worth it. At the end of the day she was happy in the knowledge that her life had purpose. And at the end of the day she knew she would find Aang alive. She just had to be patient and dedicated, like Zuko.

Suddenly through the thick grey-white blizzard Katara saw it: a wide arc of bright-blinding energy cutting upwards through the air. "Look!" She followed the light with her finger. "That's gotta be Aang! Yip-yip!"

Sokka immediately pulled on Appa's reins and the sky bison banked a hard left, following the light as it sped across the sky and landed on the ground below. Soon the light was lost and so were they, searching for any sign of Aang. Shortly thereafter the monk himself came barrelling out of what looked to be a cave buried in snow. His entire body was bound in rope and Zuko was already on top of him, pulling him up by the collar.

"Appa!" Aang cried happily at the sight of the sky bison and his friends.

Appa quickly landed and Katara slid off, ready to face Zuko yet again. During these past few months of travelling with Aang and constantly fleeing from Zuko and the Fire Nation, there had arisen within Katara this black, terrible feeling. It wrestled with her very spirit. There was hatred for the teenager standing in front of her. How could this prince be so cavalier in his destruction? How could he not see the evil in what he was doing?

"Here for a rematch?" Zuko let go of Aang and raised his hands in a defensive-offensive manner. He already looks tired and beaten, more so than before.

"Trust me Zuko—" Katara effortlessly blocked his fire attack before gathering an avalanche of snow and ice "—it's not going to be much of a match."

The plan was to launch him up into the air with snow and ice before allowing him to plummet to the ground. But with just the slightest miscalculation and haphazard slip of her wrist, the ice she had meant to encase him in shattered, breaking off into a dozen deadly shards that fanned out and inwards. A blade of ice the length of her finger spun in, slicing across Zuko's throat like a warm knife carving through butter.

Horrified, Katara screamed; stretching out her hand as though she could catch him. But she was helpless, unable to do anything but watch the entire scene unfold in front of her as if it was happening in slow motion. She watched as his face contorted in shock and then crumpled; watched as blood spurts from his neck and landed like crimson tears beneath his fading eyes; watched as his body fell with a thud onto the snow and ice beneath his feet; watched as he disappeared beneath that snow without protest, his body twitching while he died.

When she finally realised what had happened, when she finally gathered air into her lungs, she glanced up to see Aang staring at her with clouded, mystical eyes. He wasn't looking at Zuko. He was looking at her, as if to ask her what she had done.

What had she done?

Sokka was already running towards Aang, untying his knots while the young airbender numbly stared ahead at the lifeless body half-buried in the snow. Katara hadn't even noticed that her legs were already moving, stumbling across the tundra before she was kneeling in front of the fallen prince.

She turned him over and checked for a pulse, but his face was already that deathly pale colour, whiter than the snow. The only colour was the red scar on his face and the blood-stained snow beneath him.

But she wouldn't give up on him that easily, not Katara. Maybe she only knocked him out, she reasoned. So she summoned a thin stream of water and placed it over Zuko's torn neck, watching the liquid glow a pale blue. She closed her eyes and breathed in, concentrating. But she felt nothing. The chi in his body was gone. There was nothing left.

"Katara . . ." A distant voice called out to her, "Katara!"

A strong hand clamped down on her shoulder, squeezing gently. She opened her eyes and glances up. Her brother was looking down at her with such sad blue eyes. How long had she been kneeling in the snow with her eyes closed?

"It's too late, Katara. I'm sorry."

She looked back down at Zuko; his lifeless golden eyes were staring up at her. She let go of the water, watching it wash away the blood on his neck, and took in a shuddering breath.

No, she hadn't just knocked him out. The body lying in front of her was dead. Dark-haired Zuko, who looked as though at any moment he would wake up and choke out the frozen water in his lungs, coughing and spluttering indignantly. But he didn't; he wouldn't. He never would again.

_No, no, no, no! _Her mind was screaming, yelling over and over again. It was like her head had broken off from her body and had been thrown away. She couldn't stop screaming.

But this was how it was, right?

Right. This was how it was.

"Aang—"

She turned to see the young monk crying silently beside her. It was almost unnoticeable. He stood very still and the tears rolled down his pale cheeks without protest. Katara felt a vice in her heart tighten and she looked away. She could not dwell on why he was crying or it would make her cry too, and she wasn't sure if she'd be able to stop once she started.

"Katara, we have to go." It was Aang speaking now. His voice was soft and tremulous. She knew he didn't want to leave Zuko there, but he was the Avatar and he had his duty. "We have to go back to the Spirit Oasis."

"Go," she said quietly. Her eyes were still fixed on the snow-white prince covered in blood. "I'll stay here."

"Katara." Sokka stepped closer. "We can come back for the bo—"

"I said I'm staying!" She didn't bother to turn around, didn't bother to look her brother in the eye.

Aang and Sokka stood silently beside her for a moment. They knew her words were final, her tone brooking no argument. And so they eventually turned away, leaving her with Zuko without protest. They took off into the air and she was left alone.

Her hands began to tremble and her bowels seemed weighted with lead. She hesitantly reached down with her palm to gently shut the eyes of the sleeping prince—or at least that was what he looked to be doing. But this prince would never wake from his slumber.

The storm raged and roared around her, and Katara huddled around Zuko's body for warmth. She waited for the black terror to come, as though waiting for some beast out of the night to attack her. But it did not come. Instead there was a sort of descent, as though she was falling into the black depths of nothingness, until she finally touched the solid bottom of despair—and now there was nowhere else to go.

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THE CLOUDS OUTSIDE had turned an angry shade of red. There was the smell of a storm in the air, much larger and more dangerous than the one currently brewing outside.

Katara involuntarily shuddered, pulling her coat about her as she shuffled towards the fire. She was all alone now, despite the audience of Zuko's corpse, which she had dug out of the snow and dragged into the cave with her. She didn't have to stay behind with his body; she could have waited in the cave alone but she was desperate for company of any kind—desperate to face what she had done.

But where were the others? Were they still fighting? Do they care that she hadn't joined them? Did they think she was dead, too? Maybe she was. Maybe that's her body lying on the snow, no longer breathing.

The thought turned her stomach and she retched until there was nothing left. It felt as though she was purging her soul. There was an emptiness inside her that she could not fill. It hurts. She could neither look ahead or behind because all she could see was the present; all she could see was the dead boy lying beside her, the dead boy she had killed. And there was no way to come back from this, no way to easily absolve her guilt—guilt that threatened to consume her whole.

Katara rubbed the back of her hand across her mouth, wiping away the spittle and bile, and choked back a pitiful sob. This was the way things were, she told herself, and she couldn't change them. She couldn't bring Zuko back from the dead; she couldn't change his fate no more than she could change her own.

Turning back towards the fire, she watched as the flames danced before her eyes, hypnotising her. She yawned, trying to shake off the tiredness in her bones, but it was no use. Sleep beckoned her.

She stretched out across the snow-packed ground, shifting until her head was at Zuko's feet. She buried her chin inside her coat for warmth and closed her eyes, waiting for the numb blackness of unconsciousness to take over. She could already feel the sodden heaviness filtering into her muscles, weighing her down until she could no longer move.

It was on the cusp of slumber when unrepentant thoughts assailed her, seeming to petition answers from the gods themselves. How could she carry on from here? How could she act as though nothing had happened? Why did she not just rest here upon the bottom of her utmost despair?

She did not know it yet, but in the great scheme of things none of these questions really mattered. What was meaningful was the guilt that resided deep in her heart, speaking to her of a task she had to undertake.

Even now all was not lost, her heart told her, and without question she believed that voice, willingly obeyed and followed it into the unknown. Maybe it was a fool's hope she possessed but she had already taken the plunge.

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IT ENDED WHERE it began, in nothingness.

Whispering images unlocked inside his mind; unfettered, he veered out of time and space. A soul no longer bound, touched by others but never held, he drifted along a course charted by some unseen hand. The journey ahead promised him no more than his past reflected back upon him, having to once more endure the shame. Until at last he reached the end of that invisible coil and faced a truth he could no longer deny.

He was as alone as ever.

**۵ ۵ ۵**

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**Author's notes:** First of all, sorry for the annoying author notes. I promise they will be used sparingly, only to reference or to indicate dialogue taken from the show (to name the specific episodes). Speaking of which, some of the dialogues in this chapter were direct quotes taken from episodes 'Siege of the North: Part 1' and 'Siege of the North: Part 2' (they're easy to spot). Secondly, while we're still speaking of references, the idea for this story is loosely based on _The Death of Eurydice_ as well as Book 6 of Virgil's _The Aeneid_, of which all the quotes at the top of each chapter are taken from (mainly from Book 6). Let's just say that I was inspired by Greek and Vedic underworld mythology in general. :)

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**jesterry's prompts:** ZK in Spirit World; Ponytail; BLUE SPIRIT and/or Bluetara; Kinky!Spirit Oasis Fight (S1); Curse

**۵** I chose _**ZK in Spirit World**_ as my primary prompt; however, I have included all prompts in some subtle fashion (_very_ subtle).

**ღ** Cover art was done by the very talented jesterry (check out my profile for link). It just so happened that we both ended up choosing the same theme AND received one another as secret santas. Lol.


	2. Chapter 2

**۵ ۵ ۵**

_"The only hope for the doomed is no hope at all. . ."_

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IT FELT LIKE she was falling, falling into a dark, limitless void. She wanted to scream but there were no words; no sound escaped her mouth.

Then there came the plunge.

She was not sure which hits what first, her falling into the water or the water rising up to meet her. But the water was wet and warm, warmer than it should have been, and thick. When she rose to the surface she took in a great gulping gasp of air, but it did not fill her lungs. A heavy pressure built in her head as she floated facing upwards. Her hair swished around her face and she was filled with a queer sort of emptiness.

Had she not been in the snow earlier? Had she not been somewhere else, some place brighter and colder?

But now she felt nothing, smelled nothing, tasted nothing. Nothing stretched out into infinity and the water began to drain away to an even darker place—and she could not help but follow with it.

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HE EXPECTED NIRVANA.

He had pictured lush green hills and white shores stretching out before the endless expanse of a bright blue ocean, but it was just a murky, yellow marsh. Sickly green rivers flowed all around him in unison, twin-tailing until they spilled off into a muddy brown pool. Beyond that was a frightening grey mist where Zuko dared not go.

This was Patala, the place where unbalanced souls resided, a sort purgatory where spirits were relocated to other realms. Here the unsorted spirits would wait for their negative karma to be used up so that they could be reincarnated into their next lives.

Zuko didn't much care for Patala, for the lack of time and space or the feeling of a collective consciousness slowly guiding him to his next life. But worse would be being sent to the lowest regions of Naraka, the realm where sinners were punished in eternal fire.

No, it was far better to remain here in purgatory meadows, letting himself be tugged along by invisible chains into the mists of the unknown.

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**۵**

KATARA DIDN'T REMEMBER ever seeing a marsh when they flew over the North Pole, but she was standing in front of one right now. A sickly green and fog-filled marsh in the middle of nowhere, and she had absolutely no idea how she got here.

Was this a dream?

She blinked back the cold terror of confusion and tried to collect her thoughts. She could have sworn she was lying in a cave hidden on the tundra. There was a blizzard raging outside and she had to curl up next to the fire to stay warm. But now she was standing in a dark, misty place she had never seen before.

Was she dead?

Looking out into the mist, Katara took in a deep breath and sighed. Wherever this was there had to be a reason for her being here, so she descended the hill and made her way to the swamp. The walk felt eternal, and accompanying her was a dirty sort of cloud that swirled around her body like filigree curls of smoke. When she finally reached the bottom of the hill, she felt tired, as if the very air was weighing her down. She stood in front of the fog-filled marsh and frowned. She could hear the sounds of trickling water but she saw nothing, just the mist.

A breeze whispered in her ear and she turned, suddenly confronted by a face—a dingy, ghostly grey-brown face—and she gasped in surprise as the face dissolved back into the air around her. She took a staggering step back and clutched at her chest in terror; and that was when she realised that the mist, the clouds that had been following her, were spirits.

Somehow, she had entered the Spirit World.

Still clutching at her breast, Katara breathed slowly and deeply, trying to regulate her heartbeat. Now was not the time to panic. If she managed to get here on her own, then she could get out of here on her own.

She took a hesitant step forward and then another, the next step surer than the last, until she was trudging her way along the murky path towards the equally muddy river. The spirits of the dead, nearly translucent but many in number, had begun to crowd around her, obscuring her view of the river.

"Mom," she whimpered.

She was trying her best to be brave but was failing. She wondered if her mother was here with all these lost souls. The thought saddened her and she shook it off, stepping through the throng of misty spirits. What was important was that she found a way out of here. She could freak out later when she was safely back in her own world.

Suddenly the cloud of spirits dispersed and she saw a yellow light shining out of the mist. The eerie light drew closer until she could hear the slick sound of a boat gliding through water. She squinted, making out the lines of a humanoid shape, and swallowed back her fear. The man was almost animal-like in appearance, with a human body and a monkey-like face. His skin was covered in a thin layer of fur but his eyes were brown and very human, wide and keen.

He was the boatman, conveyor of the dead.

The rickety boat docked on the muddy bank of the river and the boatman raised his lamp, dolefully examining Katara with his large, slow-blinking eyes in the yellow light. Then he stretched out a hand not too far removed from a monkey's paw and shook a gnarled finger at her.

"You are not dead!"

"N-no." She shook her head, agreeing hurriedly. "No, I'm not but—"

"Then you are not welcome here."

"But—"

"The Spirit World makes no exceptions for the living."

"But—"

"Living spirits are not permitted here. Turn back."

"But I don't know how—"

"We make no exceptions—"

"That's not true!" Katara snapped, her temper flaring and getting the best of her.

The boatman was silenced; staring at her with those wide, woeful eyes of his. His hangdog expression almost made Katara regret her words. Almost. But as much as she was afraid, as much as she wanted to leave this place, she knew there had to be a reason for her being here. It couldn't be mere chance. So she ignored the rush of fear that flooded her body and boldly stepped towards the rickety boat.

"There have been others. Aang, for one." She was fairly certain her brother was once brought into the Spirit World too by some spirit panda, but she had a feeling Sokka's name wouldn't hold the same sort of cache down here as the Avatar's. "I am not the only living soul to ask entrance."

"But you do not ask," the boatman informed snidely. "You demand." There was a hint of a smirk twitching at the corners of his rounded lips. "Besides, the Avatar was able to cross the bridge to this world where no ordinary mortal can, and _you_, miss, are no Avatar." He extended a gnarled finger and pointed past her. "You must leave, now."

Katara was about to give up and turn back when there was a loud murmur amongst the multitude of spirits crowding the riverbank. They began to part like the mist itself, letting through a tall, vibrant spirit. He was not grey or nearly as translucent as the others, and he drifted purposely towards her.

"Allow me to have a word," the vibrant spirit said to the boatman, and the monkey-man nodded curtly before bowing in acquiescence.

Katara observed the exchange with an odd sense of wonderment before glancing up at the colourful spirit. She took in his features; he was exceptionally tall and broad-shouldered with a barrel chest and long dark hair half-hidden underneath a white bear headdress. His eyes were light blue, hard yet mischievous. He reminded her of her father for some reason, but she did not feel any security with the comparison.

"Who are you?"

**۵**

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**۵**

ZUKO WAS VAGUELY reminded of waiting in line for something, something one dreaded receiving—like a punishment or the results of an ill-fated firebending test. But this was not school and there was no line or real order to speak of. The spirits wandered aimlessly about him but none come close enough to touch, not that they could if they wanted.

No one here talked, either; they all just waited—waited to be relegated to a proper realm, waited for their judgement. He wondered how long before he would be sorted. It felt like he'd been waiting in this grey, featureless meadow forever, casually observing the doldrums of an odd, spiritual bureaucracy with a mixture of anxiety and trepidation. It was not unlike the nerves he'd had before his first Agni Kai.

He did not think he had been evil enough for Naraka; surely there were worse than he, men with crueller desires and wickeder deeds. His ambitions had always been noble; at least he always assumed they were. But surely he had achieved some good in his short lifetime; everything he had ever done had been for the good of his nation and to restore his honour.

It would be foolish to hope for Svarga, the blessed, bountiful green fields and sky blue ocean set against the backdrop of snow-steepled mountains. Svarga was a heavenly realm reserved for the heroic and the virtuous. But the burning scar on Zuko's face was evidence alone that he did not belong there, did not deserve to rest with the champions and the martyrs.

Eventually he was ushered towards a spirit, one who glowed a touch more brightly than the others. He was less transparent too, less grey, wearing a red sash across his shoulder and chest. He appeared to be in charge of the sorting, a bureaucrat, if you will. He seemed to be mentally taking down notes as well as giving information to the newly departed spirits. It was downright ridiculous to have such a system down here, but since no one questioned it neither would Zuko.

"Name?"

Zuko's brow creased as he frowned. "Zuko, Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation."

The spirit with the red sash glanced up, regarding him dryly. "Your name is good enough; no titles are needed."

Scowling like a scolded child, Zuko unceremoniously cleared his throat and waited for Mister Red-Sash to continue with his questioning.

"Manner of death?"

"What?"

Red-Sash heaved a great sigh of frustration. "How did you die?" He punctuated each word, which only irritated Zuko even further.

Shouldn't they have known all of this? Why did he have to answer such stupid and obvious questions?

"A waterbender killed me—by accident." He felt he really had to emphasise the latter. There was no way that peasant killed him on purpose. After the Avatar, she was the next in running for goody-two-shoes of the year status.

"I see." Red-Sash hummed to himself, ticking off invisible items on an invisible list. "It will take a while to sort you into the proper level—have to weigh your karma and all that. But before we can let you go back to the meadows to wait, there are some ground rules that you need to follow."

There were rules in the Spirit World?

"First of all, you are a spirit in transition. Your soul has yet to be processed and sent to a realm where you can pay off your karma until your next reincarnation. But you should know that even while waiting here you can affect your process, effectively determining whether you stay in Patala or descend straight to Naraka."

Zuko froze. Naraka? No. Anywhere but there.

"Now, pay careful attention to what I'm about to tell you."

Zuko nodded, patiently listening to Red-Sash's warnings. And as the spirit continued, Zuko's eyes began to widen in surprise.

No, Zuko didn't like it here. He didn't like it here at all.

**۵**

**۵**

**۵**

"I AM KURUK," the spirit said, and Katara's eyes widened like round blue saucers.

"Kuruk?" His name sounded so familiar and suddenly she remembered. "Are you—are you an Avatar?" She noted his dress, his skin, the colour of his eyes. "A waterbending Avatar?"

"That is correct. And you are?"

She stood proudly. "Katara, Katara of the Southern Water Tribe. Daughter of Hakoda and Kya."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Katara of the Southern Water Tribe." He briefly inclined his head, causing the ears on his white bear headdress to flop forward. "May I ask why you are here?"

Katara lifted her shoulders in a shrug. "I-I dunno. I was sleeping and somehow I woke up here." She motioned vaguely to their surroundings. "I guess I got lost."

"The only lost souls down here are those who are no longer fettered to the mortal coil above." She gave him a blank look and his eyes darkened. "The _dead_."

"Oh." Her throat clogged at the thought and she numbly ran her hands over her very solid body. "I don't—I don't think I'm dead."

Kuruk shook his head and chuckled deeply. "No, you are very much alive."

"Then how am I here?" She glanced around in confusion. "I thought only the Avatar could bridge the road between the living world and the Spirit World." She didn't want to admit that the boatman was right, but he was.

The grey mist built up around her again; the air was so thick with it she was almost suffocating. It was the spirits closing in on her, but Kuruk let out a sigh that shook her like a breeze. The spirits quickly dispersed in fear, making their way back to the shore.

"It is true that only the Avatar has the power to come and go at will, but powerful spirits can lure mortals here as well." A sad look briefly passed over the Avatar's face and just as quickly was gone. "Then there are occasions when the door to the underworld becomes vulnerable, especially when one is in or near spiritual portals."

"Like the Spirit Oasis!"

Kuruk inclined his head. "That is but just one door on earth."

"There are more?"

"There are many."

Katara bit her lip in concentration. Something still didn't seem quite right. "But I wasn't at the Spirit Oasis when I somehow arrived here. I was in a cave on the tundra."

"But you were there, weren't you? You touched the sacred waters." She had. In fact, she had used the water from the oasis to fight against Zuko. "You became connected the moment you touched the water, the moment the Avatar opened the gateway and left it vulnerable. As a waterbender you are already tied to Tui and La."

"Tui and La?" Katara's brow knit in confusion. "The moon and ocean spirits? I don't follow."

"Sometimes even powerful spirits ask favour from the gods and forsake their immortality to live on earth." He gives her a pointed look. "Such was the fate of Tui and La."

"_Was_?"

Kuruk pointed to the green-grey sky above. "Right now while your body rests on earth, the Moon Spirit is in danger. Someone looks to destroy her."

"Her?"

"Tui, who dwells in the Spirit Oasis with La."

Katara bit her lip again, trying her best to put two and two together. "The koi pond! The koi are Tui and La!" But suddenly she frowned, remembering what Kuruk had said about Tui being in danger.

"The disruption of their ebb and flow has caused a crack in your world, connecting you to this one." Kuruk then pointed to a red moon in the distance and lowered his hand. "But to be able to travel here without the aid of a powerful spirit or god takes more than a breach of one of the openings. Your own spirit must also be vulnerable."

Katara shook her head. "I don't understand."

"You are not the first living person aside from the Avatar to make your way here." He motioned to the pitiful misty creatures behind them. "Others have come before you; those who were brought here by powerful spirits and those who came here on their own seeking their loved ones."

Katara blanched at the phrase and quickly waved her hands in front of her face. "No, no, no! You misunderstand. I wasn't brought here by anyone and I certainly didn't come here seeking anyone . . ." She paused on the last word and Zuko's pale, dead face flashed in her mind. "I-I don't think."

"The only way you are able to cross the bridge into this world is if your spirit is connected to one of the recently departed, on an intimate level."

"An _intimate_—" She stopped herself short, horrified. It wasn't like that. She didn't care for the man she had killed. But that was it, wasn't it? There was nothing more intimate than taking someone's life, holding it in your hands and destroying it. "What if—what if I killed a man? _A boy_."

"Then it is your guilt that brought you here."

Katara's shoulders slumped forward. Was it really that simple? "Then how do I leave?"

"The portal is right behind you." He motioned to a stone gateway standing in the water. Katara was sure it wasn't there before.

The gate itself appeared to be no more than an empty stone archway. She did not see her world on the other side, only the mossy-green river that was beset on all sides. Curious, she turned towards the gateway but found that she could not move. In fact, she appeared to be rooted to the spot.

"Why can't I move?" She gritted her teeth, struggling in vain to break free of the invisible hold.

"Because your guilt keeps your spirit tethered here."

"My guilt?" She stopped struggling and made a squeaking noise of frustration. "Well, how do I fix this?"

"Your guilt must be absolved."

"How—how can I do that?"

Kuruk tilted his head to the side and examined her closely. "You already know the answer to that question."

Katara was about to open her mouth to retort that she didn't when she realised that she did. She did know the answer; she needed Zuko's forgiveness.

"But I don't even know where he is or how to find him."

Kuruk only smiled. "If you truly want to find him, you will."

Twisting her mouth into a spectacular pout, Katara sighed. Spirits and their double talk, saying everything and meaning nothing. "But what if he doesn't forgive me?"

"Then you will return to your world where you must learn to live with your guilt like all other mortals." Kuruk shrugged indifferently and Katara worried her bottom lip with her teeth. "But his forgiveness is not what concerns you, is it? You cannot forgive _yourself_."

Katara shook her head, her chestnut braid bouncing off her shoulder. "I can't. I took someone's life." She could feel the tears welling in her eyes but she blinked them back. "How can I ever come back from that?"

The Avatar was silent for a moment, regarding Katara with a gentle look that might have been considered compassionate. "There is another way," he said at last, and Katara's chin snapped up.

"What? Tell me!"

"There is much risk involved."

"I-I'll do anything," she pleaded, "just tell me."

He paused, considering her words. "You can barter for his soul."

"Barter for his soul?" Katara blinked, nonplussed. She had no idea what that meant but she was sure she could do it. "I can do that? How?"

"It's complicated and, as I said, dangerous." He took in a deep breath and held out his hands. "You must understand that even here there is balance. You cannot simply reclaim a soul and raise it from the dead. There must be a balance. You must give as you take. There must be . . . sacrifice."

Katara swallowed hard. "What must I sacrifice?"

"That is for the gods to decide, for they are the ones you must convince to allow you to return to the living with the boy."

"And if I can't—if I can't convince them?"

Kuruk shook his head. "I cannot tell you the consequences, for in order for the gods to hear your plea the act itself must be selfless." His eyes lightened. "But the real challenge is convincing this boy to return with you."

"Why would he not want to return to the living?"

Kuruk shrugged. "Things are different down here. Souls are judged and time moves slowly, sometimes in circles." He smiles thinly. "You will understand soon enough."

"Please—" she felt desperate now "—tell me more."

But he was already gliding away from her, back towards the water. "I cannot tarry any longer. Tui and La call out to me, the Avatar too." He waved in farewell. "He calls to all of us."

"Aang!" Suddenly she was running towards Kuruk. "Is he okay?"

"That is no longer your concern." His voice was distant now. "You must quickly find the boy and convince him to return with you or else return alone."

Katara stopped running; his spirit was already too far away. "I will, Avatar Kuruk. Thank you!"

His voice was a whisper on the wind, "Good luck, Katara of the Southern Water Tribe."

She blinked, for just a half-second, and when she opened her eyes he was already gone. Once again, Katara was alone.

**۵**

**۵**

**۵**

ZUKO SAT ON a rock, staring into the sepia-coloured space.

He was thinking; that's all he ever seemed to do now. An errant thought surfaced in his mind and he found himself reminiscing about his uncle. Hadn't he spent some time in the Spirit World? Zuko remembered hearing the rumours, the crewmen whispering behind his back. What brought him here? Did he come of his own free will or was he summoned here by the spirits? What had he seen? Had he been afraid? Had he been seeking something, _someone_?

Zuko sighed.

So many questions, so many thoughts were drifting through his mind all at once. He'd had too much time to think. Time ran slowly here; it felt like he'd been waiting in these meadows forever.

He wondered when he could leave, when he will be returned to the world above. He even wondered what it would be like to try to escape this world entirely, but Red-Sash's warnings echoed in his thoughts and he shuddered at the recollection. He dared not even contemplate escaping, for even he was not brave enough to face the consequences.

So he sat and he thought and he waited, waiting for time to pass him by.

**۵**

**۵**

**۵**

KATARA DIDN'T KNOW how to find Zuko and she was convinced the Avatar was off his rocker to believe that she would. She was just this single patch of colour in an otherwise misty grey universe. No, not grey—sepia.

The meadows was what this place was called. It was a place where those whose lives were in an equal balance of good and evil had come to spend their time, waiting to be sorted into the proper realm so that they could be reincarnated. And while the meadows might sound like a lovely place, it was really little more than a yellowing swamp filled with the formless dead.

There were a pile of rocks in a clearing to the far side of the river. No one seemed to be there, so she picked her way through the aimlessly floating spirits to the shady spot near the overhanging of a cliff. She supposed this was one of the divides between the meadows and another part of the Spirit World. It was slightly warmer here near the cliff, so she curled up on one of the rocks, wrapping her arms around her knees.

She felt so alone here that she wanted to break down and cry, but she was terrified of being overrun by these spirits that bore shadowy faces with humanoid features yet had no spark of light in their eyes. Some had clearly been here for a long time; their faces were almost worn away, their noses rubbed down, cheekbones gone, their lips mere lines against wispy grey. The recently deceased were recognisable as humans at least, more solid than the others, but even they seemed lost inside their own heads. They brushed past each other without words, and Katara morbidly wondered if she would end up looking as vacant.

She glanced up at the dark green-grey sky and frowned. Was it always evening here? The sky wasn't exactly dark but it wasn't light either. Katara wanted to leave, to flee, to abandon everything and return home, but her pride had immobilised her. She wanted to show herself and even Avatar Kuruk that she was worth taking a chance on and that her stubbornness had the power to match it. But how would she find Zuko in this mass? And what would she say?

Zuko—arrogant, scarred, determined, golden-eyed Zuko. Her lip curled at the thought of him. Was she really rescuing a man who had done nothing but hunt down her friends from the land of the dead? Was she really risking her sanity to bring this boy back to life so that he could try to capture the Avatar again?

Katara yawned, unable to dwell upon the thought any longer. The weariness she felt from before had finally crept in and sleepiness overtook her; she could barely keep her eyes open. She began to sway and then caught herself. Slowly, she gave in, curling up on the craggy stone. When she was almost asleep, when her respiration had slowed to the point where her body reached a semi-conscious state, there came a rustling sound from above.

"Well, if it isn't the water peasant," said a familiar voice in a clipped, acerbic tone. "So who killed you?"

Katara's eyes snapped open to meet Zuko's. He was standing above her. He looked the same as she remembered him, with his long black hair tied back in the familiar top knot; except his colouring was ashen, as were the plain clothes he wore. The red scar on his face was the only visible colour, along with his eyes—bright golden and smouldering with unmasked contempt.

She swallowed back her fear and—

**۵**

**۵**

**۵**

HE SAW HER before she saw him.

She was a beacon of light in the midst of all this greyish, foggy gloom. He spotted her huddled on top of a rock, lying between the great divide. She was totally out of place with her vibrant solid body and bright blue eyes. Zuko was not the only spirit to notice her. Her very presence had drawn the attention of the envious dead.

_What is that peasant girl doing here?_ he asked himself with a frown. Before he even realised it, he was pushing his way through the crowd towards her.

For a moment he thought she was dead. She was too bright to be a spirit, too bright to be one of them—but she had that vague, lost look that he identified already with many of the spirits around here, and that troubled him for some reason.

"So who killed you?" he asked again before he could stop himself. He certainly knew he didn't.

Her eyes snapped open and now he really knew that she wasn't dead. There was too much ice in those ocean blue eyes of hers for her to be dead.

"No one killed me," she said in the mumbling tone of someone who was about to fall asleep. "I'm the one who killed you."

That she did.

"Why are you here, then?"

"I came to get you out of here."

He snorted derisively at the thought. He imagined her tone would be far more accusatory if she were fully awake, far angrier. He couldn't remember ever having a civil conversation with her, except maybe the time he tied her to a tree. He inwardly winced at the memory. Regardless, this waterbender had been a thorn in his side since the moment he first met her. And now she had followed him into death?

"You're falling asleep," he rasped impatiently.

Her head rolled limply to one side and she struggled to keep her eyes open. "Am not," she protested like a small child and then promptly fell asleep.

Zuko could only roll his eyes at this and sigh. He had a feeling she was already plummeting his karma just by being here.

**۵**

**۵**

**۵**

SHE SLOWLY WOKE.

Her neck was sore and her limbs were aching. She turned and yawned, meeting the eyes of scores of spirits, all standing as though placed on a line. There was exactly a five foot berth around her in all directions, but just beyond that point were crowds and crowds of the dead, all gazing at her.

She felt panic bubble in her chest, but a hasty glance about revealed the guardian who had been keeping the dead away from her—Zuko. He sat beside her, his elbows on his knees, head in his hands, glaring out at the gathering of dead beyond them. He frowned menacingly at a little girl who was peeking at Katara and her bright blue eyes—watching her with her own grey eyes filling with unmasked envy.

Katara's heart twinged with sadness, but Zuko tossed his head angrily, a get-out-of-here motion, and the little spirit-girl fled at once. Something shifted in the onlookers' faces, which must have alerted him to Katara's wakening, for Zuko had abruptly turned towards her. He took in her unfurling body with pressed lips and a steady expression.

"Slept well?" His voice was still clipped and sarcastic. There was haughtiness to it, but there was no steel behind it.

"Yes," she lied.

Her back was cramped and her legs were sore. She was coming down from the high, the loss of adrenaline she had been feeding on since their first fight back at the oasis. But since arriving here she had nothing to fight for, and so the chi that had once been boiling in her veins was now dissipating at an alarming rate. She felt tired and heavy. She glanced up at the Fire Prince, catching sight of the scar across his throat—the one she gave him—and she looked away. Shame spread throughout her body.

"Good. Then get up. We have some talking to do." He stood up and her eyes traced his movements, taking in his whole change in appearance and demeanour.

Now that she was fully awake and somehow less terrified than the night before (if you could call it the night before; if there was time and nights and days down here), she could see that everyone else was as grey and translucent as he was, except Zuko's scar and his eyes still held tinges of colour. But everyone else looked the same. They were all terrifying in their uniformity.

"Get up, would you!"

She glared at him fiercely and stood—because _she _wanted to, not because he said so.

"Who put you in charge of me?" She tossed her braid angrily. "I'm the one who came here to get you and now here you are. Where's the exit to this place? I'm ready to go!"

She strode forward to grab his hand and pull, but her fingers slipped right through his. She stopped, her mouth gaping.

"Come on," he muttered, and then glowered at her. "Are all good guys this dim-witted?"

He pushed through the crowd and she followed in the path he created, trying not to notice the prickling of her neck hairs with the way she was being stared at.

They walked across the meadows for a long time until they reached another river, a smaller, less murky one. There was more fog here than anywhere else but it was relatively deserted. He pointed to a rock and ordered her to sit. Even when angry he sounded proper. He was a prince, after all. If only he wasn't transparent, she might actually be intimidated by him.

"I'll sit when I want to!" But then, of course, in that moment she wanted to sit. She began to shift on her feet, aching to take a seat.

"I have no idea what you are doing here but you are leaving now," he said without preamble, without even looking at her, and she nodded sharply.

"Agreed. And you're coming with me."

"No."

"Don't be ridiculous! Don't you want to be alive again?" Her eyebrows were flying a mile high. "I'm offering to take you back."

"You offer me nothing," he said dryly. "The gods have to decide whether I return or not and, truth be told, I don't want to return."

Katara furrowed her brow in confusion. "What? I don't understand."

"I don't expect you to. This is none of your concern. Return to your world."

"But—but I killed you."

"Yes, I realised that when I arrived here," he said snidely, then threw her a contemptuous look. "You were lucky, by the way."

"Lucky?"

"I was already exhausted before I fought you the first time." He turned his palms up. "And the second time you were only able to defeat me through stupidity and sheer luck."

"_Stupidity?_" She couldn't believe what she was hearing, or that she was repeating his words like a poorly trained iguana-parrot.

"Oh, so you _meant_ to explode the ice into a dozen deadly shards?"

Katara's finger was already in his face while her other hand was resting on a jutted hip. "Listen here, you arrogant little—"

"What am I to you?"

Katara dropped her hand and stood up straight. "W-what?"

"I asked, what am I to you?" Zuko's eyes, the only part of him that looked completely solid, bored into her with accusation. "Why do you need to take me back? To appease your guilt?" He threw up his hands. "Well, if that's all you're looking for then you're forgiven. I forgive you. Now leave."

"Look—" Katara's voice softened, almost pleading "—would you just let me take you out of here, preferably in one piece?" When Zuko didn't even bother to look at her, Katara had to stop herself from stomping her foot in frustration. "What kind of idiot would want to stay here, anyway?"

"The kind who cannot find honour above."

"Honour?" Now it was Katara's turn to throw up her hands. "Again with the honour thing."

"Look!" Zuko snapped, nostrils flaring. "Things are different now. This place—"

"What? How have things changed? You've been here, what, a few minutes and suddenly your views on life and death have drastically altered?"

"A few minutes?" He literally scoffed in her face. "You have no idea."

"Then tell me."

Katara folded her arms beneath her breasts and waited patiently, or at least as patiently as someone like her could. Zuko glanced down at her and saw the look of dogged determination in her eyes. He tsked in one part annoyance, the other part resignation. Like him, she would never give up.

Sighing, he took a seat on the rock and brought his misty fingers to his forehead. "Time runs differently here. It might feel like a few minutes have passed for you but for me it's been _years_. Years left alone with only my thoughts. And I've decided that I'm not going back."

"Are you saying you _want_ to be dead?" Katara blinked, a look of utter incredulity washing over her features. "Are you saying that you want to stay here in this limbo for—for the spirits only know how long?"

"I'm saying things are better this way."

"_Better?_ I swear—" she stood over him, brandishing her finger at him like a weapon "—I swear if you weren't already dead, I'd—"

"Kill me?" He said it so casually that she wasn't quite sure she heard him right. "How convenient for you that I'm already dead." There was no bitterness in his tone, but his eyes were shining in such a way that she immediately swallowed back the biting retort lingering on her tongue. "So you agree I'm better off down here, then?"

"That's not—"

"Great." Zuko was already back on his feet, towering above her so that she had to take a stumbling step back. "It's settled, then." He began ushering her towards the other side of the river. "Now let's send you on your way."

"_Zuko_, you are coming with me."

He stopped abruptly and their eyes met with sudden force. There was a pang of sadness in her chest at the thought that these vibrant golden eyes were going to burn out like all the others down here. But she quickly shook off the errant thought.

"I'm not coming with you."

"Why are you so scared?"

"What?" His tone was like ice and she lifted her chin haughtily.

"I asked why you're so scared. Are you just that afraid of life?"

He bit down on his bottom lip with such vicious ferocity that she visibly winced. She knew—_knew_—that he was nothing but mist, but he was so intimidating right now that she couldn't help but be frightened.

"I am not scared!" he growled. His grey face was only inches away from hers. "You waltz down here with your pretty blue eyes and your woeful bleeding heart and you presume to know me, to know everything there was to know about life and death. Tell me, what do you know about being afraid?"

His voice was a raging roar now. She was too overwhelmed to speak, too shocked at his vehement expression. His lips curled into a snarl and he glared at her hotly for a moment before spinning around to leave. But Katara finally found her voice.

"Wait! I—I can't live with the fact that I killed you."

He turned around and his eyes darted to hers with frustration. "You're going to have to."

"Please, Zuko." Her voice wobbled in her throat. "Please come back with me. I don't know what you've gone through down here and I don't know what makes you so hesitant to return, but—but I promise to help you however I can. You won't be alone."

"What if I like being alone," he replied irritably.

"No one wants to be alone."

"Don't you realise that by bringing me back I might just go back to the way I was—mindlessly pursuing the Avatar, hurting those you love?"

"And what if you don't? What if you come back and you're given a second chance? You once told me that you wanted something that was taken from you: your honour. But honour cannot be given or taken away; you must earn it yourself. You have to restore your own honour by doing what's right."

He didn't respond at once. He merely scowled at her and then he spoke, "Are all the good guys this optimistic?"

She smiled thinly. "Only me."

"Thank the spirits."

"Please, Zuko." She looked up at him with those bright, shining blue eyes of hers. "I know this is selfish of me to ask but you have to try. We may not even get out of here, but—but you've got to try because I can't be responsible for your death."

"You already are," he said bitterly.

"I know." Katara nodded slowly, hiccupping back a sob. "But you've got to come back with me. You've got to."

Zuko watched her with an uncertain expression on his face. There were real tears pouring down her cheeks now and he suppressed a noise of utter impatience. He stepped forward, still uncertain, but sensed the need for action.

"You didn't condemn me," he murmured softly. "It was just something that was meant to be."

The tears don't stop but they slowed and she looked up at him carefully, trying to decipher the reason for his kindness. But then she realised that he was sad too. She had never seen Zuko with anything but an expression of haughty indifference or raging anger, but now he was looking at her with something akin to pity or even sympathy.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, stumbling back to sit on the rock. "I'm sorry."

Zuko sighed heavily and, after a moment, he sat down beside her, perching his cloudy form on the very edge. She turned to face away. She didn't want him to see her crying; she didn't want to watch him pity her.

So they sat together in silence.

**۵**

**۵**

**۵**

HE SAT ON the rock, silently fuming. She didn't know it, of course, but she had asked him the unthinkable. She honestly believed she was saving him. If she knew the truth, if she knew what the consequences were for the both of them, would she still try if she knew? He shook his head and grimaced. Yes, the optimistic fool probably would.

"I don't want to leave here knowing that you suffer like this every day," she whispered. "Not because of me."

Her plea was hoarse and ragged and he couldn't even conjure a response. He only stared down at her fragile figure with resignation. He traced her profile with a frown, following the curve of her forehead, the smooth line of her nose down to the soft bow of her mouth. When he began to trace the slope of her chin to her throat, he noticed the blue pendant on her neck and touched the jagged scar on his own throat.

She would never forget, he told himself. She never gave up. She was a lot like him—too much, in fact. While he was suffering down here, she would be suffering up there, and he would not be responsible for anyone else's guilt and pain but his own.

From the moment she took his life and descended into this world to retrieve him, their souls had become linked in more ways than one; joined by death. Why did it have to be her to come get him? Why not her brother or the Avatar? They would have dealt with his negative answer strongly, not crying or begging, causing him so much guilt and grief. Well, maybe the Avatar would have cried . . .

Grimacing, Zuko turned to look back down at the river. For anyone else he would never consider returning to the living world, but for this girl, for some unknown reason, he was less sure.

"Get up!" he ordered, and she sat up straight in terror.

The world of the dead was silent all around them. He could hear the river trickling in the distance. She stared up at him with wide moonlit eyes and he exhaled a growl. Damn her.

"Get up," he repeated, glaring at her.

"What's wrong?"

"We're going."

"Going where?"

"Back to the land of the living."

**۵ ۵ ۵**

* * *

**Author's notes: **Descriptions of the Spirit World are taken from the Avatar world as well as merged with common underworld themes mainly found in Vedic Hinduism, as well as Greek mythology. In this Spirit World there are different realms as well as different types of spirits—higher spirits, including gods and Avatars and those who simply possess immortality, and then there are the lower spirits, ordinary souls awaiting reincarnation. Those souls are eternally bound by karma.


	3. Chapter 3

**۵ ۵ ۵**

_"Each of us bears his own Hell."_

**۵**

**۵**

**۵**

ZUKO LED KATARA to a place known as The Gates. It was really more of a stone archway than a gate, much like the portal that initially deposited her into the Spirit World. Except this archway was black and massive and, as far as she could tell, there was absolutely nothing on the other side. It was just blank white empty space, which terrified her more than she'd like to admit.

"You can't take me home yet," Zuko informed her tersely, as they made their way to the frightening black structure. "You still have to bargain for my soul, so you'd better be up for it."

"What?" Katara's eyes were bulging out of their sockets. "Bargain? Nobody told me I'd have to bargain for your soul!"

"How did you think you'd get me out of here? Did you think you could just walk out of here with me the way you came?"

_Yes_, Katara thought to herself with a frown.

"I belong here," said Zuko. "They're not going to let me go without some convincing."

"B-but what am I going to say?" Katara began to panic, walking slowly now as they drew nearer to the archway. "I'm the one who sent you here. Is that going to work in my favour or against?"

Zuko shrugged indifferently. "How should I know? Just think up something."

"Think up _what_?"

He sighed impatiently. "I don't know! I'm not exactly an expert here. This is my first time being dead, as well as trying to raise myself from the dead."

"Surely there's been a precedent—aside from the Avatars." Katara began to chew on her bottom lip, something she did when in deep concentration, and scanned her brain for stories. Was there something her mother and father taught her when she was young, something half-remembered from her childhood? Who visited the Spirit World and returned with a soul? Who succeeded in such a task?

"My uncle travelled to the Spirit World," Zuko remarked absently, and Katara was suddenly elated.

"He did? Why? How?"

"Uh, I'm not exactly sure." He shrugged uncomfortably as she pressed near him, or as near as she could to his incorporeal form. "I never asked and he never told."

"Well, what use are you?" She muttered a curse under her breath and Zuko scowled peevishly. "I'm almost certain it's always a case of two lovers."

"I don't think my uncle came here to find his lover," Zuko said slowly, as though considering the notion, and Katara shook her head in frustration.

"No, what I meant was most of the tales that I vaguely remember as a child involved a lover pleading his case before the great spirits. Something about his grief over the death of his loved one made him vulnerable to enter the Spirit World. His undying love then convinced the gods to let his lover's soul return to the living—or something like that," she added hurriedly.

"Yeah, I'm not going to be your lover," Zuko said with an air of finality that made Katara pause.

"What? Why not? It's just pretend!" And then, as though realising she actually sounded disappointed by his proclamation, an angry blush crept up her cheeks and she turned away. "I don't like the thought, either."

"All I'm saying is that it probably isn't wise to so boldly lie to the gods."

"Yeah, you're probably right." Katara brought her fingers below her ear and scratched. She couldn't argue with him on that; he did have a point. "Then what?"

"I dunno." He shrugged again; it's all he seemed to do when answering her. "You're the one who is supposed to plead my case, not the other way around."

Before long they reached the entrance to The Gates. Katara got a kink in her neck when she tilted her head back to take it all in. The structure was massive, even bigger than the gate she came through (although she didn't exactly remember coming through the portal to begin with). A spirit guard stood beside the archway and asked them for their names and purpose. Katara turned to Zuko for an explanation, thinking his lordly manners and appearance would somehow win over the guard, but the spirit refused to even hear him out.

"We don't listen to the requests of the dead," said the spirit in a monotone voice. "Only the living. State your names and purpose."

Sweat broke out on Katara's forehead. She and Zuko exchanged apprehensive glances. How could she be expected to plead their case and convince the guard to let them through? She had never been the persuasive type; that had always been Sokka's department. He'd think up something quick on the flash, win over this spirit as well as the gods themselves. But Katara was just Katara, not her brother, not someone who had a way with words. She was just going to have to cobble together something convincing if she wanted to get Zuko and herself out of here.

"Names and purpose," the spirit repeated mechanically.

"Zuko and Katara." Her heart was beating so loudly in her chest that she could feel the vibrations in her ears. "I want to bring him back."

"To the living?"

"Yes!" she snapped. "Where else would I want to bring him?"

The guard was looking at her properly now and she stared back, holding her ground. She was putting on a convincing show, and she hoped he didn't notice how her fists were locked tight and trembling ever so slightly. Her bottom lip started to quiver but she bit down on it so hard that she was almost certain she had drawn blood.

The guard scrunched his misty nose and eventually relented, standing to the side. "You may enter."

The gateway slowly opened and Zuko and Katara stepped inside. One hurdle down and who knew how many more to go. Katara would just have to come up with a plan to convince the gods to let her take Zuko back to the living on their way there. Somehow, she would find a way.

**۵**

**۵**

**۵**

KATARA DIDN'T KNOW exactly when they had passed through the portal because her eyes were closed the entire time. Something about walking into a blank-white empty space with no sky and no visible ground beneath her feet made her stomach churn and her head spin with vertigo.

"You can open your eyes now," Zuko said monotonously, though she swore she could hear the eye-rolling in his tone.

Katara opened her eyes hesitantly, expecting to be disoriented by a canvas of white nothingness. Instead she was greeted with a deep blue sky and green pastures that stretched out towards an endless blue-green sea.

She smiled and looked to her right, spying a small stream that ran into a crescent-moon shaped pool no wider than twenty paces. Tiny green and silver fish darted to and fro, their silvery scales sparkling from the sun reflecting off the waters' surface. Beyond the stream was a field of fire lilies in bloom, blood-red orange like the setting sun. Their scent carried on the breeze and she inhaled, watching as broken petals floated in the air and settled onto the pond, creating ripples in the water.

"Where are we?" She turned around to see that the gateway behind them was no longer visible.

Zuko was silent, taking in the scenery with a mixed look of sad remembrance. She was about to ask how they intended to find where they needed to go while stuck in a lily field when a powerful yet gentle voice addressed them:

"Welcome, living and dead, to the road of the past."

Katara and Zuko spun around to see something that was not there before: a long cobblestone road cutting a path through the fields and a vibrant spirit dressed in Fire Nation robes, plum red. He was tall and pale with long white hair and a matching beard.

"Avatar Roku!" Katara and Zuko gasped in unison. Why was he here?

Roku slowly inclined his head, his hands hidden in the folds of his sleeves. "I am your guide—" he directed his gaze at Zuko "—and your link to the past."

Katara wasn't sure what he meant by that, but then she hadn't been sure of anything since she arrived here. Zuko didn't seem to understand either because even though he was incorporeal she could see his brow furrowing in a vain attempt to decipher Roku's words. But neither had time to ask questions before the Avatar was flourishing his arm, pointing to the stone path ahead.

"In order to reach your destination you both must journey down the path of the past." His eyes were on Zuko again, who only looked away, but Katara could not remain as reticent as her companion.

"What's at the end of this path? What's our destination?"

Roku smiled, tucking his arms back into his sleeves. "At the end of this road lies the palace of Varuna, god of the underworld and the only spirit who can grant a departed soul's return to the living world." He straightened his back, his features darkening. "You have but two options to consider before you take this path: to go forward or turn back; where you, Katara, will be returned to the land of the living—" his gaze fixed on Zuko "—and where you, Zuko, will be sent back to the meadows of purgatory."

Katara let out a sigh of relief. That didn't seem so bad. Then she felt the Avatar's eyes on her again and she froze.

"You must decide wisely, for if you turn back now you may never return for him or any other soul." Roku's expression was grave, so grave that Katara's mouth had suddenly gone dry. "And should you decide to go forward down this path, you cannot turn back." He paused, giving her a look that wordlessly asked her if she understood, and she nodded mutely. "I will give you time to discuss the matter."

Roku then drew away, drifting back into the fields. When he was out of earshot Katara turned towards Zuko, but he was already silently staring at her. He looked uneasy, almost ill, and she had to stop herself from biting her lip in worry. Why was he so afraid?

"I don't want to face my past," he said lowly, as though reading her mind, and his eyes darted to the stone path ahead. "And I don't want you to have to face it, either."

There was something in his voice and on his face, a sort of resigned sadness that made her almost contemplate his words. But she had not travelled this far to turn back now. She would save him whether he liked it or not.

"Want to turn back now?" She folded her arms beneath her breasts. "Go ahead, _Your Highness_, but be prepared to face my wrath."

Zuko studied her for a long, hard moment, his nostrils flaring with indignation. Finally, he shook his head. "No, I'd rather be lost at sea with two broken legs than deal with your anger."

"You're damn right!" She smirked triumphantly before pointing a finger at the path ahead. "Now let's get a move on."

"So you have made your decision?" Roku was floating back towards them and Katara nodded with determination. She glanced over her shoulder at the grim and far less-determined Zuko.

"Yes, we have. We are taking the road to the past."

Roku smiled and his body began to fade. Well, it was not quite fading. It was almost like he was a pillar of sand disintegrating in a strong breeze. Katara's mouth worked soundlessly as she watched parts of the Avatar being carried off on the wind. Wasn't he supposed to be their guide? And how far down this path were they supposed to travel?

Zuko was staring off in the distance, observing the stream that ran parallel to the stone path. Without any words exchanged, the two began their walk down the road. Katara still wasn't sure where this palace was. All she could see was a stone path cutting through a field that led towards the ocean. And that was when she noticed that the scenery around them had begun to change. It was not as vibrant as it once was. It was as though it had been misted over in a soft light. Everything around them was slightly muted, the flowers now dull and colourless.

"Aww." She found herself pouting. "Where did all the pretty go?"

Zuko did not answer. His eyes were on the path, occasionally shifting to the stream beside them, which had now widened. She noted that it was only the stream that had retained some of its colour, a clear blueish grey. White mist rose from the surface, swirling into distinctly humanoid features.

They were images—images of people and places drawn in the mist.

The mist suddenly took shape, becoming solid, and Katara saw a little boy with dark hair. He was barely two, maybe three years old, and he was holding onto a pink, crying baby. Their eyes were both golden-amber, and the little boy was smiling down at the baby with obvious affection.

Katara heard a woman's voice:

_"Zuko, this is your sister, Azula."_

The little boy smiled down at the pink baby who was no longer crying. She was holding onto his finger with her fist, gazing at it with utter fascination as she blew bubbles on tongue.

_"Ahzuwa," the little boy whispered. "I'm your brother."_

The solid images then turned back into mist, settling back into the waters as though nothing had happened. Katara involuntarily shuddered, as though cold, and turned to Zuko.

"You looked happy," she said after a while, but Zuko only frowned in remembrance before forging on ahead.

"Times change."

**۵**

THEY WALKED A little farther, gaining a few yards (she really couldn't tell as it didn't feel like they're getting anywhere at all), when another series of images formed from the mist.

Young Zuko was sitting with a woman by a small pond. She looked to be his mother. They were smiling and laughing, feeding the little turtle-ducks that swam in circles, trying to catch the bits of bread. As his mother held him close, Katara felt a sudden pang of longing in her chest.

"Is that your mother?" He nodded, unable to tear his eyes away from the image, and Katara smiled. "She's beautiful."

Zuko didn't respond. He just kept walking ahead, allowing the misty images to return to the water. But as they continued onwards, new images began to surface from the stream, flitting by so quickly she could barely register them all.

Finally, a larger scene unfolded and this time there was a young girl with golden eyes like Zuko's standing in a green courtyard. Was this his sister, Azula? She was attempting a cartwheel but fell. Behind her was another little girl in pink with a long braided ponytail; she ran forward and performed the move with ease, topping it off with several somersaults. Azula pushed the girl over and laughed coldly.

Off to the side was another girl with jet black hair done up in odango twin-tails. She watched the other two girls with uninterested eyes, though her gaze surreptitiously flitted back and forth to young Zuko, who was watching the girls with boyish curiosity.

Next, Azula was placing an apple on the top of the head of the girl with the odango hairstyle and set it ablaze. Young Zuko rushed forward, trying to knock the burning apple off the girl's head but tripped instead. Both children came crashing down into the fountain, landing on top of each other.

_"Girls are crazy!"_

Katara could barely suppress a giggle as she watched the younger Zuko storm off in a huff, water dripping everywhere. He really hadn't seemed to change much since then, except he was taller now—and scarred.

The next scene showed Zuko's mother reading a letter that caused the siblings to laugh boisterously, and then she was handing them what appeared to be presents. To Zuko she handed a pearl dagger. He was examining it closely but Katara could not make out the inscription.

"What does it say?" she asked, and Zuko's misty brow wrinkled.

"Made in Earth Kingdom."

Katara did a double take. "Did—did you just make a joke?"

When Zuko didn't reply, Katara turned back to observe the scene. His sister received a pretty doll, much to her obvious displeasure. Azula and Zuko began to argue but the sound was garbled, and suddenly it cleared:

_"How would you like it if cousin Lu Ten wanted Dad to die?" Zuko asked, and Azula merely shrugged. _

_"I still think our dad would make a much better Fire Lord than his royal tea-loving kookiness," she said off-handedly, before setting the doll on fire. _

Katara swallowed nervously. She felt like she had just overheard something she wasn't meant to—but then she could say that about all of Zuko's memories thus far.

As the scene began to fade and the images returned to the stream, she turned to Zuko and said, "That's one special sister you have there."

Zuko grimaced. "You don't even know the half of it."

**۵**

THEY CONTINUED DOWN the path, but the sea was getting no closer.

Brief images drifted from the stream, here and there, but nothing solid or important enough to make them stop. Katara watched Zuko from the corner of her eye. He seemed different somehow. Maybe he was distracted. Then mist began to lift from the water, creating more images, another solid memory.

Young Zuko was in a large room with his sister and mother. With them were two other men; one quite old, perhaps Zuko's grandfather, Azulon, and the other looked like an older, scarless version of himself. Zuko's father, Ozai. It appeared that the children were firebending for their grandfather.

Azula went first, performing flawlessly and gracefully.

_"She is a true prodigy," said Ozai with a proud smile. "Just like her grandfather for whom she's named." _

_Azula resumed her seat next to her brother and whispered, "You will never catch up."_

Looking eager to prove his sister wrong, Zuko rose to demonstrate his bending; the smile on his father's face turned into a frown.

Katara watched, cringing slightly as young Zuko stumbled with the same form his sister so effortlessly used. Azula smirked viciously from the side-lines. Zuko tried again but fell to the ground.

_"I failed."_

Katara felt another pang in her heart. She didn't know why she felt so sad. This was Zuko, after all. But seeing a little kid try so hard and fail and believe he had dishonoured himself and his family just tugged at her heartstrings. No child should be put through so much pressure.

The scene changed and Zuko and Azula were now hiding behind a pair of thick red curtains. They were eavesdropping on their father and grandfather's conversation. Katara heard Ozai mention something about his brother, Iroh:

_"Father, you must have realised, as I have, that with Lu Ten gone Iroh's bloodline has ended. After his son's death my brother abandoned the siege at Ba Sing Se and who knows when he will return home! But I am here, father, and my children are alive."_

_"Say what it is you want."_

_"Father, revoke Iroh's birth-right. I am your humble servant, here to serve you and our nation. Use me."_

_Azulon leaned forward, pointing a gnarled finger at Ozai. "You dare suggest I betray Iroh, my first born?" Fires rose from the trenches, mirroring the Fire Lord's anger. "Directly after the demise of his only beloved son? I think Iroh has suffered enough. But you, your punishment has scarcely begun!" _

Zuko ran to his room, leaving his sister behind, and threw himself on his bed. Katara frowned as she watched the young boy's entire body shake with terror. Azula finally entered the room with an evil smirk on her face.

_"Dad's going to kill you," she sing-songed, and then stopped to leer at him. "Really, he is." _

_"Ha-ha, Azula. Nice try."_

_"Fine, don't believe me—" she shrugged nonchalantly "—but I heard everything. Grandfather said Dad's punishment should fit his crime." She imitated Azulon, "You must know the pain of losing a first born son by sacrificing your own!"_

_"Liar!"  
_

_Azula sat down on the bed beside him. "I'm only telling you for your own good. I know, maybe you could find a nice Earth Kingdom family to adopt you."_

_"Stop it! You're lying!" He held onto his blanket as though it could save him from her words. "Dad would never do that to me."_

The images started to break apart, pooling around Zuko's feet, and he watched them with a blank expression on his face. His back was to her, his head down, and she had no idea what he was thinking—she wasn't sure if she wanted to know. But the words tumbled out of her mouth, anyway; they always did.

"Was she telling the truth?" There was no way she could be. No father, certainly no father of a prince, would kill his own son. This was simply sibling rivalry. Katara was fairly certain his sister was a few cards short of a full deck. She had to have been lying, and yet—

"Azula always lies," Zuko said in a distant voice, turning to face her with haunted eyes. "Azula _always_ lies."

Katara swallowed hard and frowned. His answer, meant to console her (or maybe just himself), only convinced her otherwise.

**۵**

THEY TOOK A break in the middle of the road. Zuko was off to the corner while Katara sat near the water, watching the tiny silver fish swim upstream.

Zuko didn't seem to want to go any farther, and the memories didn't seem to pop up when they weren't moving down the path. Katara wasn't quite sure why he had chosen now to stop, and while she normally would have considered having a discussion about it, the Fire Prince had proven to be the rather reticent sort. So she could only wait patiently until he gathered his wits again—whenever that would be.

After a few minutes, Katara became impatient. She had never been one to dally.

"Why are we sitting here?" She absently poked her finger into the stream. It was cool to the touch but not wet. It was as though she was simply sticking her finger into cool, foggy air. "Shouldn't we be moving forward?"

Zuko ignored her, as usual, which only further aggravated Katara. So she stood up and quickly marched over to where he was sitting. Incorporeal or not, she wanted to slap him upside the head. But then she wondered how she would have felt being forced to relive her past and having her enemy watch it with her.

"I'm not ready to face some of these memories quite yet." he said softly, still sitting with his back to her. Katara opened her mouth and, just as promptly, closed it in shock. She hadn't really expected him to answer her, especially not so honestly. "I just need a moment."

Katara let out a shallow breath and begrudgingly sat down beside him. With just a few short words he had made her feel like an impatient, unfeeling baboon, and it annoyed her immensely. He was right, but it still annoyed her whenever he played the morally superior card. It just didn't seem right coming from him.

"Take all the time you need," she said, placing her solid hand next to his intangible one. She almost felt like adding something smart like, _We have all the time in the Spirit World_ or _It's not like I can go on without you_. But that was more of a Sokka thing to say, and it seemed wildly inappropriate to make jokes now. She imagined this whole ordeal had to be emotionally exhausting for the prince; even she could feel the strain.

"Okay." Zuko finally stood to his feet. "I'm ready." He looked over his shoulder at her. "Never give up without a fight, right?"

Katara blinked nonplussed by his sudden zeal. "Huh?"

"Made in Earth Kingdom."

Katara just stared at Zuko, more confused than ever. Was he making another joke? If so, she didn't get it and she didn't get him. In fact, she was fairly certain she would never understand the male sense of humour in general.

Zuko ignored her confused looks and began leading the way. She watched him from behind, observing the way he held himself. His spine was ramrod straight and he looked confident with his head held high, but she could see that his balled fists were trembling and she worried her bottom lip with her teeth.

For a while nothing happened, just the long trek down memory lane with no memories. And then the mist began to rise from the stream, weaving its intricate patterns. The scene forming was huge and knitting directly in their path so that they could not move past it. As it fleshed out, Zuko had suddenly gone rigid, and Katara frowned.

Young Zuko was sound asleep on his bed. The door opened to his room and his mother drifted inside, gently waking him.

_"Mom?"_

_"Zuko, please, my love, listen to me. Everything I've done—" she hugged him tightly "—everything I've done is to protect you. Remember this, Zuko. No matter how things may seem to change, never forget who you are._

She hugged him a last time and got up before disappearing down a dark corridor. Then the images began to shift, showing a young Zuko swiftly waking in terror.

_"Mom?" Zuko was running down the hallway. "Mom! Mom!"_

He came across Azula, who was leaning against a pillar. She was absently playing with Zuko's knife.

_"Where's Mom?" _

_"No one knows." She shrugged and then looked up at him like she had just remembered something vaguely important. "Oh, and last night Grandfather passed away."_

_"Not funny, Azula. You're sick! And I want my knife back, now."_

_He grabbed for the blade but she dodged him and held the knife out in front of her, taunting. "Who's going to make me, Mom?"_

He finally snatched the dagger from her clutches and sprinted out of the room towards the garden. His father was standing silently over the pond, staring off into the distance.

_"Where is she?" Zuko begged, but his father didn't reply, didn't even bother to turn around._

The image of a devastated young Zuko had begun to fade, returning to formless mist, and silence filled the air; horrible silence.

Katara stood deathly still, completely shell-shocked, as the misty-white clouds floated back to the stream. Perhaps she and the Fire Prince had more in common than she had once thought.

"Zuko," she began softly, as though her words might harm him, "I am so sor—"

"Forget it."

"But—"

"We're past the hump." He pointed at something gleaming in the distance. "Look, I can see the palace up ahead."

Katara shook her head, clearing her thoughts, before glancing up ahead. She saw it too; the white gleam of towers in the far distance, or at least she assumed as such. Her eyesight obviously wasn't as keen as Zuko's because all she could really make out were shapes that could resemble towers. But she did see the ocean and the sun brightly reflecting the rich, sea-green colour.

That was when Katara noticed that there was colour again; not just the ocean but everything around them, from the fishes to the stream to the field of fire lilies renewing their vibrant shade of orange. Even Zuko had some colour in his cheeks that she was sure wasn't there before. In fact, he even seemed a bit more solid now, more alive. She was about to comment on this when the mist began lifting off the water in blankets, covering their path once again with fog.

_Another big one_, she thought to herself with some mild apprehension. She looked over her shoulder at Zuko to see that he had gone rigid again. She frowned. What could possibly be worse than losing his mother?

_"Let me in!" _

Zuko was barking orders at a pair of guards who were blocking his entrance to a room. He looked older, maybe thirteen or fourteen. His face was still free of its trademark scar, and Katara wondered exactly when he had received it—on the sea?

_"Prince Zuko, what's wrong?" asked an older man, who Katara instantly recognised as General Iroh._

_"I want to go into the war chamber, but the guard won't let me pass!" Zuko's voice broke slightly at the end._

_His uncle led the boy a short distance away from the guards. "You are not missing anything, trust me. These meetings are dreadfully boring."_

_"If I'm gonna rule this nation one day, don't you think I need to start learning as much as I can?" Zuko countered, and his uncle nodded reluctantly._

_"Very well, but you must promise not to speak. These old folks are a bit sensitive, you know." He winked, and Zuko bowed respectfully._

_"Thank you, Uncle."_

The scene shifted to a war chamber where Fire Nation generals appeared to have gathered around a map of the Earth Kingdom adorning the floor. One of the generals on the left was addressing the war council:

_"The Earth Kingdom defences are concentrated here," he said, pointing to a spot on the map. "A dangerous battalion of their strongest earthbenders and fiercest warriors, so I am recommending the 41st division."_

_An older general interrupted, "But the 41st is entirely new recruits. How do you expect them to defeat a powerful Earth Kingdom battalion?"_

_"I don't," the speaking general responded coldly. "They'll be used as a distraction while we mount an attack from the rear. What better to use as bait than fresh meat?"_

_Young Zuko was on his feet. "You can't sacrifice an entire division like that! Those soldiers love and defend our nation! How can you betray them?" _

The generals began to argue amongst themselves, clearly disapproving Zuko's sudden outburst, while Zuko's own father looked down on him with cold eyes. He then told his son that this matter was to be settled over an Agni Kai. And just as the words passed his lips, the images vanished.

Katara blinked nonplussed. She had no idea what an Agni Kai was but it didn't sound pleasant. Not at all. But then the images blazed back again with the intensity of fire, and she took a fearful step back, as if the mist might burn her.

Zuko was entering what looked to be an arena. There were large crowds on either side. He dropped his ceremonial cloak to the floor, exposing his bare chest, and turned to face his opponent. He froze in horror at the sight before him. He was not expecting to fight this man.

It was his father.

A cold fear churned in Katara's gut. _No_, she thought to herself with a looming sense of dread. _This can't be how he gets his scar_.

_"Please, Father," Zuko begged with tears in his eyes. "I only had the Fire Nation's best interest at heart! I'm sorry I spoke out of turn!"_

Katara swallowed the lump in her throat. Zuko looked so small now; his father so big.

_"You will fight for your honour." _

_Stricken, Zuko abased himself on the ground. "I meant you no disrespect. I am your loyal son."_

_"Rise and fight, Prince Zuko!" Ozai taunted, but Zuko shook his head with tears in his eyes, still lying prostrate on the ground._

_"I won't fight you."_

_"You will learn respect," said Ozai, "and suffering will be your teacher."_

Ozai then raised his hands and fire filled the arena. Katara turned away; she could not look. Zuko's screams of pain echoed throughout the valley, and Katara clamped her hands down on her ears, biting back a sob.

Why? Why would a father do this to his son?

_"You are henceforth banished, Prince Zuko," said Ozai, his voice filling the air even though the images were already gone. "Regain your honour and you may return."_

"Regain his honour?" Katara removed her hands from her ears, glancing up at the fading mist. "How about you try regaining your honour as a father, you evil sack of—!"

"Hey," Zuko interrupted gently, far too gently. "He can't hear you. You're yelling at thin air."

But she didn't care. "He's a monster, Zuko! A monster!" She hadn't even noticed that she was crying. "No father, no parent, should ever do that to their child! Ever!"

Katara hiccupped back a sob, digging the palms of her hands into her tear-stained eyes. She couldn't believe she was crying for the prince of the Fire Nation, but she was. She couldn't stop her heart from breaking at the thought of what he had gone through or how he must have felt, how he must still feel.

She sniffed loudly, wiping at her nose with the back of her hand, before turning away. She didn't want him to see her like this, with her eyes swollen and bloodshot and her nose running. She didn't want to admit that his past had touched her.

"He did it to teach me a lesson, to learn respect," Zuko said softly, and she wanted to ask him how his father burning his face had taught him respect, but she didn't. "And I was banished because my refusal to fight was seen as a sign of my weakness. I lost my honour. The only way I could redeem myself was to capture the Avatar. He was my only hope."

"Zuko." Her voice was gentle and she moved a hand to his misty shoulder. "You never lost your honour. Your father let _you_ down. He shamed himself."

"We have to keep moving." He shrugged off her hand as though she had actually touched him. "It's not much farther now."

**۵**

ZUKO WAS RUNNING, and Katara was trying her best to keep up.

Images flash in front of her, moving in sync with them: Zuko chasing after Aang, a storm, her being tied to a tree. She blushed in remembrance of the latter. And suddenly there was a wall of images surrounding them. The only way she could not see them was if she closed her eyes, and for some reason she believed they would still get through somehow—still find their way into her mind.

A vivid scene unfolded in front of her, showing Aang being held prisoner by Admiral Zhao. Katara frowned. Since when was Aang captured by Zhao?

A man dressed in black and wearing a blue mask released Aang from his prison, motioning for the Avatar to follow him. A fight broke out and the masked man drew twin blades and cut them a path. The fighting seemed to go on forever with the masked stranger and Aang working together to fight off their common enemy before they managed to escape the encampment walls.

Suddenly there was a massive rain of arrows and the masked man was hurt. The scene quickly moved ahead, showing an exhausted Aang standing over the injured man. He reached down and removed the mask, revealing the stranger's face, and Katara gasped.

"You—" she stopped dead in her tracks; her eyes were wide and fixed on Zuko "—_you_ saved Aang's life?"

He couldn't even reply—not that he would have—before another series of images blurred past them. His half-solid form reached out and tried to take her hand, to make her run with him, but his hand slipped through. Still, Katara ran alongside him as images continued to float in front of them as they drew nearer to the gates of the palace.

More images were hurled at them.

First she saw Zhao and then Zuko standing alone on a ship as it exploded. She watched as a bruised and bloodied Zuko swam through the icy cold waters of the North Pole. She saw him at the Spirit Oasis, fighting her and then taking Aang away.

Next, Zuko was trekking through the icy tundra with Aang on his back. He took a step and the ice beneath his feet began to crack. His eyes widened in shock but he did not let go of Aang. Instead he ran faster, carrying the Avatar as the ice splintered and broke apart beneath his feet.

The impact of the ice threw him off balance and launched him in the air. He loses his grip on Aang and fell. As the cloud of snow dissipated, Zuko raised his head and crawled towards the young monk lying unconscious in the snow.

_He really doesn't give up,_ Katara whispered to herself, watching Zuko drag Aang into a nearby cave.

_"I finally have you," Zuko said to an unconscious and bound Aang, "but I can't get you home because of this blizzard." He stood up and looked outside the cave. "There's always something. Not that you would understand. You're just like my sister. Everything always came easy to her. _

_"She's a firebending prodigy and everyone adores her. My father said she was born lucky. He says I was lucky to be born. I don't need luck, though. I don't want it. I've always had to struggle and fight and that's made me strong. It's made me who I am."_

Katara turned to look at Zuko, but he was already forging onwards through the mist.

"Almost there."

Finally, it was the last scene of Zuko's past; the one Katara did not want to see again. It unfolded clearly in front of the pearly gates from all to see. It was Zuko's death.

The first image she saw was herself, her hands raised in an offensive stance. Zuko was launched up into the air on a pillar of ice and snow, and the all too familiar sensation of peril seized Katara as she watched the ice break off into a dozen shards, spinning in and slicing across his throat.

This time she forced herself to watch his pain and suffering, suffering she had caused. She swallowed back bile when she saw the blood spurt from his neck like a fountain, staining the snow crimson beneath his feet. He fell to the ground with a listless thud, his body twitching for only a moment before it stilled. Forever.

"This is it," Zuko said, oblivious to the re-enactment of his own death. It seemed to have only scarred Katara, at least emotionally. "Just past these gates and we're at the palace of Varuna."

Both walked through the archway with spirits guarding either side. Neither guard said a word but watched with keen eyes as the teenagers entered.

Katara raised her head, looking up at the beautiful palace with child-like wonder. The structure seemed to sparkle in the overhead sun, as though the walls themselves were decorated in diamonds. If Katara were to ever envision the palace of a god, this would be it.

"Hey, Zuko, do you think—" Her question died in her throat when she bumped into something solid, something tall and warm with hands that reached out to clutch by her shoulders.

Katara slowly turned towards that solid object and gasped. Zuko was solid once more, and in colour. He was alive. He was tall and substantial; his face was pale and perfect with his strong chin and piercing golden eyes. His hair—his long, inky black hair tied in a ponytail—swayed in the gentle breeze.

He was alive.

"Zuko, you're real! You're solid again!" She reached up to touch his face but he caught her by the wrist.

"You think you could stop doing that?" He gently lowered her hand and she blushed profusely before pulling away.

"Sorry."

He stared at her for a moment, watching her blush. The characteristic gloomy anger no longer gleamed in his eyes. Instead, it was replaced with something else—something Katara couldn't quite put her finger on.

"Let's go," he said, turning towards the entrance way.

Katara followed suit, an undeniable bounce to her step. For some reason she was happy, inexplicably happy.

"Have you thought up what you're going to say to Varuna?" Zuko glanced over his shoulder at Katara and she paused.

Had she?

Suddenly a smile rises to her lips and she nodded before pushing on ahead of him. "Yeah, I think I have."

**۵ ۵ ۵**

* * *

**Author's notes:** The dialogue in italics are quotes taken directly from the show, episodes 'Zuko Alone', 'The Storm' and 'Siege of the North: Part 2'. It should be noted that Varuna is not just god of the underworld but also of the celestial and earthly oceans.


	4. Chapter 4

**۵ ۵ ۵**

_"When gods are contrary, they stand by no one . . .  
So if you cannot move heaven, then you must raise hell."_

**۵**

**۵**

**۵**

IF KATARA WERE to describe the palace of Varuna in one word, it would be resplendent. Built into the face of the Mount Meru and surrounded by the celestial waters of Rasā, it was a wondrous structure in itself to behold. Slender ivory towers banded in lacy stonework, snowy domes capped with gold and topped with golden spires gleamed brightly in the dying sun. It was truly a palace built for the gods by the gods.

She and Zuko slowly make their way up the white stairs until they were in the entrance hall of the palace, their every footfall echoing on the ivory floors. The guards here seemed to be solid like herself but their eyes were ghostly, watching the living enter the palace in silence.

Katara tried to keep her features guarded; every line on her face was blank, yet inside she was a maelstrom of emotions. Fear, worry, anticipation, irritation, wariness and impatience bounced over each other, washing through her. She wasn't quite up to the task and she knew it. But she couldn't help but feel proud as she walked into the enormous chamber with its high-vaulted ceilings; her every footstep echoing assertively as she approached the throne of Varuna, goddess of the underworld.

The first thing Katara noticed was the goddess's hair; it was as white as snow and long, spilling over the back of her throne and pooling onto the ivory tiles below. Her skin was just as pale, almost translucent and glowing; even the gown she wore was crystalline, like shimmering waters cascading down every fold and curve of her body. She was a beautiful ice sculpture, perfect and cold.

The goddess slowly lifted her head, her mane of snow shifting down her bare shoulders, and regarded her audience with the most brilliant blue eyes Katara had ever seen. Liquid pools of sapphire, deeper than the oceans. Beside her Zuko let out a tiny gasp that sounded something like a prayer while Katara open gaped in awe. She simply could not turn away.

_This was a god._

But Katara would not be so easily intimidated, not even by a god—or at least this was what she told herself. She had a mission to fulfil. So she squared her shoulders and set her lips into a grim line of determination. She would win over this beautiful goddess, she convinced herself with blind confidence she did not even know she possessed.

Like Zuko, Katara would never give up. But it was not bravery that worked her limbs to move or her mouth to open; for, in truth, she really wasn't all that brave. She was scared out of her wits, to be honest; scared of everything and everyone around her. But she had strength, the strength of her convictions, and that made her as strong as steel.

"I am Varuna," the white-haired beauty announced, her voice as strong and calming as a heavy rain. "God of the celestial waters and ruler of the Spirit World. What is it that you want?"

Katara swiftly pointed to Zuko. "I want him." She was not pleading or demanding, just answering a very simple question with an equally simple response, hoping the goddess didn't notice how badly she was trembling. "I want to bring him back to the living."

"What is he to you?" She was impassive, this icy goddess, and Katara wondered how anyone had bargained with her before.

"He was once my enemy," Katara said evenly, and the goddess lifted a pale eyebrow in curiosity.

"And now?"

"I don't know, exactly." Katara shrugged uncomfortably. "But I do know he is not the person I once thought he was, and I have come all this way to petition for his life—a life I took."

The goddess's pale brow rose a fraction of an inch higher. She seemed intrigued by all of this. Perhaps this was the first time a living soul had requested the return of a conquered enemy.

"How did you find your way to him?"

"Guilt," Katara answered without hesitation. It was, after all, the truth. "Luck, I guess. And determination. But mostly—mostly it was he who found me."

"And why do you believe he deserves to return to the living?"

"Because he didn't deserve to die." Katara paused, swallowing hard. "His death was my doing and its undoing should also be mine to petition." The goddess regarded her dubiously and Katara struggled to keep from babbling. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath before continuing, "Because I believe everyone deserves a second chance, and this man can do good things, if given that chance."

Varuna slowly shook her head, long white locks cascading down her bare shoulders. "That is not reason enough to allow his return."

"Isn't it, though? I-I thought life and death was all about balance. What balance does he serve down here?" She gestured to Zuko. "Maybe he can help turn the tides and bring balance to our world above."

"But you cannot guarantee that he will balance the scales. You cannot simply bet on off-chances."

"Why not?"

"Because as a living soul you have nothing to bet with," said Varuna. "You risk nothing."

Katara puffed out her chest with indignation. "Then I will bet my own karma on the _off-chance_ that he will."

The room had immediately gone silent and Zuko stepped forward. "Now wait just a—"

But Varuna raised a pale hand and effectively silenced the prince. Her blue eyes seemed to dance in the pale moonlight that spilled into the throne room. Those same eyes narrowed on Katara.

"You would wager the karma of your eternal soul on a hunch?"

Katara inwardly winced. Well, when she put it that way it did sound rather foolish, but Katara had always been known for thinking with her heart, not with her head.

"I have seen his past. I have seen him help others, placing strangers and even enemies above of himself. I have seen the welfare he has for his people." The scar on his face proved that. "I believe he can do good, if you will just give him that chance."

Varuna was mute, silently calculating. Her gaze was intimidating and terrifying but Katara held her ground. Then the goddess descended from her throne and stepped towards them both. She was feather-light; her bare feet did not make even the slightest whisper on the ground, nor did her watery gown that seemed to magically float along the floor.

"Your plea is heard," she said, "and your petition is granted. You may return to the living world at dawn—together."

**۵**

"FOLLOW ME," THE goddess commanded.

She was already gliding down the steps, trickling like water, and disappearing out of the main chamber. The teens followed her down a series of hallways that grew dimmer and dimmer as they went. Zuko was ahead of Katara, leading the way behind Varuna, when Katara suddenly lost sight of them both.

She called out Zuko's name and inwardly cursed herself for her frightened tone. She made a full circle, lost in the darkness, until she bumped into something solid and warm. Hands reached out and latched onto her shoulders, and she had to stop herself from shrieking.

"I'm right here."

Suddenly there was a flame lit in Zuko's palm and Katara could finally see. She was grateful that he could bend here and she absently wondered if she could too. But now was not the time to test that theory.

They quickly caught up with the goddess who was glowing like the pale moon outside. Her gown seemed to be made of the same celestial waters that surrounded the palace, and Katara absently wondered if it was wet to the touch.

"Just around this corner is your room," Varuna said softly, pointing up ahead with a pale finger.

"Room?" Katara furrowed her brow in confusion. She thought the goddess was leading them out of the Spirit World, not to a bedroom—certainly not one to be shared between her and Zuko.

"You will leave at daybreak," Varuna informed them. "I imagine you both have much to discuss—to say your goodbyes." She smiled benevolently at them both and turned to leave, gliding down the hallway that now shimmered like moonlight.

Goodbyes? Katara chewed on her bottom lip. This goddess didn't seem to have much faith in them or her, specifically—to imagine that she would not succeed. Deciding not to dwell on the issue any longer, Katara followed Zuko down the hall.

Once inside the room—the only one she could spot around the corner, at least one with a door—Katara could not help but grimace. The room itself was rather spacious with a large bay window that overlooked the moonlit waters below, but there was only one bed and one chair. Nothing else. For a bedchamber in a celestial palace, it was rather sparsely furnished. Katara couldn't help but wonder where she and Zuko were supposed to rest.

They both eyed the bed greedily and Zuko pointed a determined finger at it, glaring over his shoulder at Katara. "You are not getting that bed!"

"Why shouldn't I? What makes you so special?"

"I'm dead," he answered simply, and Katara glowered. That was his answer for everything.

She wanted to say that she was the one who was freeing him from the Spirit World, but then she was the one who had sent him here in the first place. It wasn't exactly a winning counter-point. So instead of bickering, Katara decided that a compromise was in order.

Silently walking past Zuko, she circled the canopied bed as she took in its size and inviting plushness. She glanced at the chair and its noticeable lack of comfort and turned back to the bed, suddenly feeling very sleepy.

"This bed is big enough for the both of us," she reasoned, and Zuko took an apprehensive step back.

"I'm not getting into bed with you," he said quickly. The back of his neck and ears were already flushing a bright pink.

"I didn't—that's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?" .

Katara's mouth worked soundlessly before she dropped her shoulders in defeat. "Ugh, _that_. But it's not like I want to cuddle with you or anything," she added quickly, and Zuko stared at her like she might as well suggested that they fornicate. "You stay on your side and I'll stay on mine; never the twain shall our bodies meet."

Zuko kept his gaze warily fixed on her for a moment and then nodded reluctantly. "Fine." He pointed to the right side of the bed, closest to the door. "This is my side and that's yours. And this—" he picked up a pillow and laid it down the middle like a vertical divide "—this is the line that separates us. Don't even think about crossing it."

Katara rolled her eyes. _Whatever_. "I'll try my best to resist, Your Highness."

Both carefully folded back the blankets on their respective sides of the bed and climbed inside. Backs to each other, separated as far apart as possible, they sighed in unison, waiting for the weariness of sleep to take over.

**۵**

KATARA COULDN'T SLEEP. How could she in a strange bed in a strange place with such a strange boy sleeping next to her?

Zuko didn't seem to be faring much better. He was tossing and turning as he tried to shift himself into a comfortable position before settling on his back with a big sigh.

"Can't sleep?" He didn't answer. "Neither can I." She folded her hands behind her head and took in a deep breath. "I can't wait to return home, back to the land of the living."

"I have no home to return to."

Katara brought her arms back down under the covers, feeling rather uncomfortable. She forgot that he was a banished prince; not just banished but deprived of his ship and crew. He was as alone in the living world as he was in death.

"You have your uncle," she supplied lamely, regretting the words the moment they slipped out of her mouth.

Zuko muttered something unintelligible in response and she didn't bother to ask him to clarify.

An uncomfortable silence settled between them and Katara began to twiddle her thumbs underneath the sheets. She felt as though she should say something, but this was Zuko. Anything she said he was either going to ignore or guffaw at. But there was this unmistakeable unease weighing on her chest; it had been there ever since she turned down the path to arrive here, experiencing Zuko's past as he relived it.

"I know how you feel," she said quietly, and Zuko snorted derisively.

"How could you possibly know?" There was bitterness and condescension in his voice, and though she knew she should try to be patient and sympathetic, something inside Katara snapped.

"Would you just listen to what I have to say for once!" She sat up in bed and smoothed her hands down her tunic, trying to calm herself down. "I know—I know what it's like to lose a part of your family. I lost my mother when I was very young."

Silence was his only response at first and then there was a soft, "How?"

"The Fire Nation came to our village looking for a waterbender. A soldier entered our home, demanding my mother tell him who the waterbender was." She stared at her hands, digging a nail underneath her thumb. "It was just me and my mom and I was so scared. "But my mother, s-she told me to go fetch my dad, and when I came back—" her voice faltered "—it was already too late."

"Your mother told him that she was the waterbender."

"Yes." Katara nodded fiercely, tears falling despite her best attempt to rein them in. "My mother died protecting me, so I—I do know how you feel." She lifted her chin to look at him directly. "And I know what it feels like to blame yourself."

She didn't look away immediately and this seemed to unnerve Zuko. His mouth worked open but no sound came out, not at first. He turned away, exhaling hotly through his nose, and then forced himself to meet her eyes again.

"But what happened to your mother wasn't your fault," he said, and Katara couldn't help but smile sadly.

"What happened to your mother wasn't your fault, either."

They were both silent again, only the sound of Katara sniffling. She rubbed at her tear-stained eyes in vain before wiping her nose with the back of her hand. This was the second time she had cried in front of him. Whatever had caused her to become this emotional in his presence?

"You know—" she settled back on the pillow "—I hated you."

"Really?" Zuko raised his good eyebrow in mockery. "I would have never guessed, what with you killing me and all."

"I mean I decided to hate you before I even knew you." This he really did raise his brow at and Katara swallowed hard before continuing. "Part of it had to do with you chasing after Aang, tying me to a tree." He squirmed uncomfortably at the mention of the latter. "But it was more than that.

"I had always associated everything evil with the Fire Nation, especially soldiers and the royal family." She turned her head. "_You_. Because of what that man did to my mother I assumed that you were just as capable."

Zuko shook his head. "Sadly, we are all capable of doing what he did."

"You're right. We are all capable of horrible things, but you are not a murderer. I am—" she pointed to herself "—but you are not. You tried to capture Aang so many times but you never hurt him, not even close. In fact, you saved him." She paused, offering him a watery smile. "What I'm trying to say, Zuko, is that I'm sorry. I'm sor—"

"Don't." His fingers were on her lips. "Don't apologise."

Her eyes widened. His fingers were rougher than she imagined, calloused, and she could feel the heat from his fingertips permeate her lips.

He noticed her widened eyes and glanced down at her mouth, hastily pulling away his hand as though her lips had scalded him. He unceremoniously cleared his throat and Katara thanked the spirits that it was just dark enough in the room for him not to see her blushing.

"You did what you had to do in order to protect your friend. You have every right to hate my country and my family, especially me. I've been chasing you all across the world. I must have looked mad to you." He paused thoughtfully and his eyes darkened. "But what that man did to your mother was unforgivable and wrong. And I—I'm not really even sure anymore if this war is right."

"Zuko?" She watched his features closely. It felt like she was looking at him for the first time; the _real_ Zuko.

"Never mind." He shook his head. "Let's just call it a truce for now. Okay?"

He extended an arm to her and she stared at it dumbly for a moment before some half-remembered speech from Sokka on the manly tradition of grasping another man's forearm sprang to mind. She extended her own arm in return and grasped his with a firm shake.

"It's a deal."

After a moment they let go, settling back onto their respective sides of the bed with Zuko's pillow still acting as a natural divide.

Katara felt temporarily recharged; her senses were piqued to a degree of wakeful readiness. _Goodnight, then_ was what her brain wanted to say but her mouth seemed to have other plans—ones mainly involving babbling. And so she unwittingly attempted to liven up the atmosphere with tales of sucking on frozen frogs and telling horribly unfunny jokes, most of which she forgot to properly deliver the punchline for.

When Zuko didn't so much as smile, Katara nervously rubbed at the spot behind her ear. "Uh, Sokka's usually much better at telling jokes than I am."

"You don't say."

Katara sucked on her bottom lip, feeling the tips of her ears burn with heat. Yeah, she wasn't exactly good with the telling of the jokes, but he wasn't exactly good with the hearing of them. They had reached an impasse in their conversation and she had no idea where to go or what to do.

"How about we try to get some sleep," he suggested dryly; thankfully no longer sounding annoyed with her. "Who knows what sort of craziness we'll face tomorrow."

Katara nodded in tired agreement and settled back into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. She watched as Zuko turned over on his side, facing her with his eyes closed, already falling into a deep slumber. Sokka was the same way, she thought—falling asleep at the drop of a hat and dead to the world. He would tell her it was a warrior thing but she was convinced it was really just more of a guy thing.

Her eyelids suddenly grew heavy and she realised that she was indeed tired and no longer fighting the urge to sleep. As her eyes began to flutter shut, her gaze once more drifted to Zuko's sleeping form, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed and the way his face relaxed in his sleep, giving him this gentle boyish look. Then her eyes focussed on the ugly scar on his throat, the one she had given him, and she frowned. She did this to him—_she_ did.

Could he trust her to rescue him from here? Could she trust herself?

Her eyes finally slid shut and she let out a soft sigh. She didn't have all the answers and she wouldn't know for sure if she could return Zuko until she tried. But she would try, for the both of them.

**۵**_  
_

KATARA WOKE IN the middle of the night or what she assumed was night (it was hard to tell down here) and rolled over onto something solid: Zuko's chest.

Like something out of a nightmare, Katara slowly turned her head to look up at his face, to see if he was still asleep. Instead, she was met by two bright golden eyes staring down at her quizzically.

She let out a scream of terror that ended up sounding more like a squawk and jerked herself off Zuko's chest. The top of her head connected with his nose in the process before she promptly fell off the bed. Quickly getting back up on her knees, Katara cautiously peered over the side of the mattress. How did he end up on her side of the bed?

"What did you do that for?"

Zuko's hand was covering his mouth and nose, smothering expletives. After a few seconds he removed his hand and sniffed. Katara didn't see any blood, so she didn't think he really should have been complaining this much. Really, were all men were such babies?

"Why are you on my side of the bed?"

"Your side?" He blinked and looked to his left, seeing the empty expanse he had travelled across to get to her side. "Oh."

He quickly shuffled over as an apology and Katara hesitantly slipped back under the covers, eyeing him suspiciously the entire time. She had no idea why he would want to get close to her; she wasn't exactly a running warm sort of person. In fact, her body temperature had always been rather cool. It would have made more sense for her to be on his side, seeking the natural warmth of his body—and it might explain why her head was cradled on his chest. She brought the sheets up over her nose at the thought, trying to hide her blush.

Several moments of silence passed and Katara drifted back to sleep only to be awoken by a gentle dip in the bed. She opened her eyes and turned her head to see golden eyes eerily glowing in the darkness.

"Did you really mean what you said?" Zuko's voice was surprisingly soft, so much so that she wasn't sure she had heard him right.

"What?" She yawned, turning over on her side as she tucked the blankets underneath her chin. She had said a lot of things today.

"What you told Varuna—that you thought I could do some good in our world."

Katara paused. She could see the outline of his face in the moonlight. She had never seen him look so earnest, so vulnerable.

"Yes, I did," she said, and then corrected herself, "I do." He seemed unsure of her answer, but she barrelled on, trying to explain. "You said it yourself: we're all capable of bad things. And I had once thought I could only see the bad in you, but coming down here and seeing you—the real you—I now know that there is good in you, too. Real goodness."

What she didn't tell him, though, was that she respected him and, much more frightening than that, she trusted him. But she couldn't be sure he felt the same about her. Any why should he? It was probably hard to fully trust the person who killed you.

"Look, I don't know if anything will change when we return or if we'll just go back to being enemies. But right here, right now, you have my trust. So much so that I'm willing to risk my karma." Katara offered him a lopsided grin. "Consider it intuition or just plain craziness, but I have faith that you are a good person, Zuko."

He was silent for a moment, mulling over her words, and then took in a deep breath. "So you think I can be like you, one of the good guys?" He paused thoughtfully. "I dunno. I don't think I'd be good at being the hero."

"I think you'd do fine," Katara murmured sleepily into her pillow, sinking deeper into the mattress. "You just need to believe in yourself—" she yawned loudly "—and allow others to believe in you."

Her eyes were already closed when she said the words, so she could not see the way he was staring at her or the shy but proud grin that had surfaced on his lips.

**۵**

VARUNA'S GUARDS CAME for them at daybreak.

They were already awake and ready to go. Katara was hollow-eyed and yawning while Zuko looked pale—paler than usual, anyway. They weaved their way through the empty hallways and stumbled down the stairs until they reached the entrance hall; beyond that, the throne room.

When they stepped inside, they expected to see Varuna. Instead there was a man, a beautiful young man dressed in golden armour that shone as brightly as the sun. In fact he was so bright that Katara had to shield her eyes at first.

His skin was pale but healthy, glowing with radiance. From chest to feet he was draped in brilliant gold armour; the light from his armour was so blinding that she could not make out the insignia on his broad chest. Atop his mane of raven-black hair was a crown of gold shaped like the sun, fitted perfectly in his topknot.

He was standing next to Varuna's throne, his hands held behind him at the small of his back, legs only slightly spread apart, at ease but coiled at alert. That hair of his, so black and sleek and long. It was almost as long as Varuna's snow-white mane. And while Varuna was haunting like the moon, this man was blinding like the sun.

Lowering her hand, Katara offhandedly wondered if this stranger was Varuna's husband. He was handsome and boyish, a bright contrast to the timeless and surreal beauty of Varuna. Though opposites, they somehow seemed like a perfect fit.

"Who are you?" Katara suddenly asked, unable to stop the words from tumbling past her lips.

"Who are _you_?"

"That was Lord Agni," Zuko hissed beside her, "the _god_ of fire."

"Oh."

Zuko was already abasing himself on the ivory tiles while Katara stared at this magnificent god with a slacken jaw. She was shamefully embarrassed for a moment, but the fire god didn't seem to mind her lack of recognition or respect. It was then that she noticed the hard slant of his cheekbones, the bow of his mouth, the slight raise of his eyebrows and the gentle glow of his golden eyes. He reminded her of Zuko—an older, non-scarred, shining brighter than the sun version of Zuko.

"I am Katara," she finally said, bowing lowly, "daughter of Hakoda and Kya."

Agni's eyes were both light and hard, and his soft lips lifted, curling at the corners with a fetching smile. "So you are the mortal that killed this boy here and petitioned for his return to the living." He motioned to Zuko, who was already back on his feet with his head bowed lowly.

"Yes, I am."

"I see." Agni's eyes curved with a hint of mirth. "The guards outside will escort you to Varuna. She will show you to the door that will return you to your world above."

Both Katara and Zuko bowed in unison, expressing their thanks. They were about to turn when Agni called out.

"One moment. I would like to speak with you." His eyes were on Katara. His mouth opened again and this time his bright shining hand was reaching out to her, blinding her. "Alone."

Foolishly, Katara looked back at Zuko for support but his eyes were bulging, silently demanding that she submit to Agni's request or else be smote with fire (by his or the god's). She then squared her shoulders and began walking up the short steps, ready to hold palaver with the god of fire.

**۵**

**۵**

**۵**

OUTSIDE THE THRONE room in the entrance hall, Zuko waited. And waited.

They had been gone for a long time, or at least it seemed so to him. Maybe it was because he so curious what the god of fire had to say to a water peasant that was so damn important. Zuko would have given his good eye to hold court with the lord of all firebenders.

Finally, Katara came back, slipping out of the throne room like a thief in the night. She was red all over and trembling, not once taking her eyes off her feet.

"What did he say?"

"Nothing!" she whispered hurriedly, refusing eye contact. "Just drop it!"

She brushed past him, making a beeline for the two guards who were patiently waiting outside to escort them to Varuna. Zuko peeked back inside the throne room. Agni was no longer there. Vanished. Gone. Zuko's mouth pulled downwards into a disappointed frown.

He turned back to Katara, who was fidgeting with her tunic. Stopping, she turned around and snaps her fingers at him and slapped at her thigh like an owner calling for her pet to follow. Her eyes widen in shock, as though finally realising the absurdity and degradedness of the act, and her cheeks flushed scarlet again before she promptly swivelled around.

Zuko scowled. This blushing idiot was the one who would damn him, he told himself resignedly with a sigh. But then she might very well be the blushing idiot who would save him.

**۵**

**۵**

**۵**

THE GUARDS LED them outside to the shores of the celestial waters where Varuna was already waiting.

The goddess looked almost corpse-like against the backdrop of the rising sun. The night was definitely Varuna's time to shine, whereas the day was for Agni. Still, the goddess was hauntingly beautiful no matter what light she was in.

Varuna lifted a pale arm, signally for the guards to leave and the teenagers to come forward. She then guided them along the golden-white sands to another stone gateway, not unlike the one Katara came through. Although this one was much bigger, opening up into a long arching bridge and a set of stairs that lead up, disappearing into the clouds.

"This is the bridge to the living," she said softly. "At the end of this bridge are a set of stairs that will return you to the living world. Go gently."

Katara and Zuko stepped forward together and were about cross the threshold when Varuna called out to them. Both turned expectantly, faces wearing identical quizzical expressions.

"You must go first," Varuna said slowly, looking directly at Katara. "You must walk before him and trust that he will follow you. It is your mission to guide him to safety."

Katara swallowed hard and nodded in affirmative. Varuna opened the gateway for them and they walked forward again. Suddenly the goddess was standing directly in their path.

"Before you go, Katara, daughter of Hakoda and Kya, you should know that you alone will be tested on this path. At no point can you turn around, nor can you call out to him. If you do, he will be lost to you forever—sent to Naraka, the hell of the underworld, where he will dwell until his next reincarnation."

"W-what?" Katara felt like she had been punched in the gut. The wind was knocked out of her lungs. Hell? Her world turned black and she took a step back, panicking. "No one ever told me that! I-I didn't—I didn't know." She turned to Zuko. "Did you?"

He failed to meet her eye and she felt her heart plummet into her stomach. She swallowed hard, nauseated. He knew. He knew all along and he let her convince him to come here. Why? For what purpose? Did he want to punish himself?

"The road taken here was Zuko's trial alone," Varuna explained. "It was a quick balance of karma, a short-cut to reincarnation or internment."

"But the sacrifice—"

"The sacrifice has always been his soul, to free it to the world of the living or to banish it to the fires of Naraka." The goddess's blue eyes darkened. "Your penalty was to suffer humility; to know that you chose yourself over another. It never crossed your mind that your acts could punish him."

Katara's knees buckled. She tried to breathe but found no air. Varuna was right. Katara had never once thought how any of this could harm Zuko; she had never bothered to listen to what _he_ wanted.

When she finally caught her breath it was only to have bile rise to her throat. She was going to be sick. What had she done?

"With all due respect, I disagree."

Katara turned in shock to see Zuko standing beside her, his eyes level on the goddess.

"I do not believe that she chose herself over me," he argued. "She's not that sort of person." He glanced at her briefly before turning his attention back to Varuna. "It's true that she feels guilt for what she did, but I believed her when she told you she thought I could serve a purpose greater than myself. I believe her still. That is why I think her goals are selfless. She will not fail."

"_Zuko_."

"Don't let it go to your head!" he snapped, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips. "I need you to be that sickeningly hopeful girl I once tied to a tree."

"Tied to a tree?" The goddess was once more intrigued, but Zuko ignored her.

"Can you do that?" He strode forward and in only a few steps his face was just inches from Katara's, his breath hot against her skin. "Can you lead me out of here?"

"I-I c-can," Katara stammered, momentarily at a loss for words. She felt fear, of that there was no doubt, but it was small and tightly contained, swallowed whole now by sheer determination. "I will."

Zuko's Adam's apple bobbed nervously in his throat but he nodded, pleased enough with her answer. He squared his shoulders with her and she smiled thinly but appreciatively. Both of them were playing the hero now, depending on one another, and it was now up to Katara to validate her promise; it was up to her to bring this prince back to the land of the living.

"Goodbye," said Varuna, quietly smiling. "And good luck."

Katara craned her neck to look up at the intimidating bridge beyond the arc. She could feel Zuko staring at her back but she did not move. Her limbs were twitching and her body was aching to turn around, but her spine had turned to steel and she took in a deep breath.

She strode forward.

She could do this, she told herself, hoping against hope that Zuko would follow. For there was no turning back now. In both life and death they were inextricably bound, and she _would_ bring him home.

**۵ ۵ ۵**


	5. Chapter 5

**۵ ۵ ۵**

_"Stay your steps. Do not retreat from me . . .  
This is the last time fate will let us speak."_

**۵**

**۵**

**۵**

THEY TRICKED HER. The gods had tricked her!

Katara was so angry right now she could scream, but making a single noise on this bridge could void the spiritual contract and send Zuko straight to Naraka, a realm of torment and agony. That thought alone kept her mouth shut. The idea of Zuko being sent to hell because of her terrified yet drove her forward all the same.

It wasn't entirely Varuna's fault, Katara eventually reasoned—actually, it wasn't the goddess's fault at all. It was her own. Katara was the one who was so confident in herself and her need to return Zuko to the living—to appease her own guilt—that she never once considered the consequences for him.

Avatar Kuruk warned her but she had arrogantly presumed the sacrifice would be hers and hers alone. But it wasn't; and it was her decision to try to bring Zuko home, a decision she made that entailed a sacrifice for him. The ultimate kind.

But why did he choose to come with her? Why did he allow her to bait him if he knew all along that he was just travelling towards a second death—no, a punishment far greater than death? He was willingly walking into a trap that she had unwittingly created. But to what end?

What had she done?

Taking in a deep breath, Katara carefully made her way onto the onyx-coloured bridge. She could hear the rushing waters below but she dared not glance down in case she somehow turned and looked back at Zuko. Varuna had told her she must always look ahead, always move forward, or else—

Katara shook her head. She didn't want to think about the consequences. Instead, she focussed on moving forward. She stared ahead but she could no longer see the stairs that Varuna had pointed out earlier, before they entered the archway.

The fog was so thick here that she could barely see her own hands in front of her face or the black stone bridge beneath her feet. She wondered what kind of images she would be shown. Would it be like how it was seeing Zuko's past? Would she see her own this time? Would he see as well?

She worried her bottom lip with her teeth. The latter thought shouldn't have bothered her. Why should she care if he saw her past? She had seen him at his most vulnerable; it was only fair that he got to see her at her weakest point too.

The memory of Zuko freezing when he saw his mother hugging him goodbye flitted through Katara's mind and she frowned. She was going to have to relive everything again, wasn't she?

Taking in a deep breath, Katara strode forward. This was her test, she told herself. To see how strong she was and how much she was willing to sacrifice for her enemy without condemning him to hell. But while Katara had stood beside Zuko on his path, her journey inevitably had to be travelled alone.

**۵**

**۵**

**۵**

ZUKO'S EYES WERE trained on the waterbender in front of him, his gaze fixed on the chestnut braid that hung down the middle of her back. He knew all along that he'd be sent to Naraka should someone try (and fail) to bring him home. His conversation with Red-Sash informed him as such:

_"On the off chance that a living being should descend here and petition for your soul, you run the risk of being sent directly to Naraka should that person fail. _

_"It is all about balance here, no shortcuts. And I should note that there have only been a handful of people who have managed to convince Varuna. You are unlikely to be a part of that exception."_

Zuko didn't expect anyone to come for him, least of all the person who had killed him. But she had; she had come to him with tears in her eyes and he stupidly agreed. He still wasn't exactly sure why he did it. Maybe on some level he knew she'd fail and he'd be forced to spend his reincarnation cycle in hell. Maybe he wanted to be punished. Maybe.

But now things were different, somehow. Now he wanted her to succeed. He wanted to return to the living. He _needed_ to.

**۵**

**۵**

**۵**

KATARA SLOWLY MADE her way across the bridge. She was still unable to see what was directly in front of her, so she stumbled forward and reached out to balance her footing.

She glanced down at her feet to see gaps in the stonework below. Some of the gaps were easy to spot, missing chunks of mortar; some were tiny, some were several feet wide. Others were difficult to spot, slick cracks in the stone that crumbled the moment her foot touched them. What at first seemed to be a strong and sturdy structure was actually a weakened foundation.

_How many hopeful souls have set foot on this bridge?_ she wondered. _How many have made it to the other side?_

The fog picked up, invading her space as it crawled along her skin and forced its way into her lungs as she breathed. It swaddled her like a thick blanket, suffocating her, and she tried her best not to choke on the air.

But the fog wasn't her only deterrent from running straight for the exit; the crumbling stone bridge groaned and creaked under their weight, cracking apart, and Katara swallowed her fear into the pit of her stomach. She held it there, coiling it tightly and refusing to let it surface. She really did have to lead Zuko out of here, and she had to trust that he would follow her every step or else—

Suddenly the fog began to lift, drawing upwards and parting like curtains for a performance. The bridge was visible to her now, though she still could not see the exit ahead. She thanked the spirits for the small favour that she could at least now see where she was going and began to walk more confidently across the bridge.

The sound of the rushing celestial waters below was almost soothing to the ear, though eerie, and the brilliant silver-green waters rise up alongside of her like twisted banners spun of liquid silk. The waters then began to form their own patterns, reminding her of the mists in the meadows, and she waited for it.

At first there were only flashing images: a small girl with pale skin and milky green eyes, dressed like a boy with messy black hair in her face; then there were three slightly older girls around Katara's age, all three appeared to be chasing after Appa. The older girls looked familiar, but the images flashed by so quickly that Katara had no time to recall where she had seen them before.

Then she saw herself in a green-glowing crystal cavern with Zuko. His ponytail was gone, replaced with shaggy hair that fell in front of his eyes. He was dressed in Earth Kingdom robes and he was looking at her with such sad eyes. She was touching his scarred cheek, almost longingly.

The images shifted.

Next, she was kneeling in the water with a lifeless Aang in her arms. Katara swallowed hard, trying to chase back the visceral images that mocked her vision. Was he dead? No, the Avatar could not be dead! She wanted to scream out, to ask what was going on, but the scene was already changing, morphing into something else.

Afiery scene unfolded; the skies above were blood red, an angry storm of violence. She saw Zuko; this time he was crouching low with his arms extended forward. Blue and orange flames surrounded him, licking at his skin. Suddenly a jet of blue fire blasted past his shoulder. Katara could see a girl around her age with brown hair and amber eyes propelling herself forward with those same blue flames, aiming for Zuko.

Creating a large sphere of fire, Zuko managed to protect himself from the girl's attacks while returning his own volley of orange fire. But the girl was too fast for him. He crouched low to the ground and performed several spinning sweep kicks, creating a powerful ring of fire that expanded outwards. The girl attempted to block Zuko's attack with a shield of blue fire, but she was too late and Zuko's fire connected.

The amber-eyed girl fell forward and rolled across the ground, gasping in pain. She determinedly picked herself up, trying to steady herself. Katara could see that the girl was obviously in pain, but it was more than that, more than just physical torment that clouded her haunted, frenzied eyes. Her hair had come undone, wet strands sticking to her face, and she was staring up at Zuko through the flames, baring her teeth in anger and contempt.

_"What, no lightning today, Azula?" Zuko taunted. "What's the matter? Afraid I'll re-direct it?" He shifted his stance and thrust his palm forward, as though daring her to try._

Katara held her breath. Azula? Zuko was fighting his sister?

_"Oh, I'll show you lightning!" Azula screamed, waving her hands around in arcs, generating lightning from her very fingertips._

Zuko was breathing evenly, extending his palms outwards as though he was going to receive the lightning. Katara was still holding her breath, mesmerised by both siblings' actions; it was like watching two fencers circle each other in duel. Azula's lightning crackled in her palms and her eyes shifted, looking past Zuko at someone else. Katara's eyes widened when she saw that it was her there standing behind Zuko.

Azula smirked and extended her arm to the right of Zuko, releasing the lighting at Katara. Katara could only watch in horror as the lightning travelled towards the image of herself. She was going to die. Zuko's crazy sister was going to kill her in the future!

But suddenly the scene narrowed in on Zuko, an expression of shock registering on his face as he realised who Azula was aiming for. He pivoted quickly to the right, trying to get in between Katara and the lightning as it shot from Azula's fingertips.

_"No!" he yelled, extending his fingers as he absorbs the lightning mid leap._

_There was a blinding flash of light and Katara could hear her own vision screaming out his name, "Zuko!"_

The images dispersed and Katara noticed that her own hand was reaching out through the green fog, as though she could save him, as though could stop the images from disappearing.

This was her future, to watch Zuko die?

She curled her fingers into a fist and lowered it to her side, setting her mouth in a hard, determined line. She could not question it now, could not say a word, could not turn back. She had to keep going forward, for Zuko's sake.

**۵**

**۵**

**۵**

ZUKO'S EYES WERE on Katara's back but his mind was spinning, reeling in shock.

What did he just see? His future or hers? He saved this girl's life, fighting against his own sister, matching her every move? Him, the failure, the banished prince? He wasn't sure if these visions were glimpses of the future or some twisted sort of devilry.

The green water flickered and he bit his lip, concentrating on the task at hand. He found himself admiring the waterbender's resolve, her ability to keep going forward. Perhaps she wouldn't be so easy to break. But then it was still too early to tell.

**۵**

**۵**

**۵**

KATARA CONTINUED TO carefully make her way across the bridge, wondering what she'd be shown next. Unlike the road to Zuko's past, where Zuko could run past the images, Katara could not. If she should run, she could fall. Then what would happen to Zuko?

Celestial waters rose high above her like dazzling columns, forming a pair of hands that were reaching into a deep pool of blue. It was Admiral Zhao. He grabbed the white koi from its sanctuary and it struggled in his hands. But eventually Zhao forced the flailing fish into a bag and pulled the strings tight. The moon above turned a blood red and Katara's eyes widened in shock as she remembered what Avatar Kuruk had told her about the moon and ocean spirits.

Admiral Zhao had just captured Tui, the Moon Spirit.

The scene then shifted to the northern city with a blood red light washing over it. The Northern Water Tribe's counter-attack against the Fire Nation soldiers faltered; without the moon in balance with the ocean the waterbenders had lost their power to bend. The Fire Nation soldiers advanced, burning the city as they went.

More images shifted by and Katara trembled slightly as she advanced down the bridge. Suddenly she saw Zhao again, standing under the blood red moon. He held a knife to the bag with Tui inside, and Aang dropped his staff in surrender.

_"Zhao, don't!" _

_"It's my destiny," Zhao said with a smug grin. "To destroy the moon and the Water Tribe." _

_"Destroying the moon won't just hurt the Water Tribe," Aang explained. "It will hurt everyone, including you. Without the moon, everything would fall out of balance. You have no idea what kind of chaos that would unleash on the world." _

_"He is right, Zhao!" A hooded Iroh stepped towards Zhao on the side of Aang, forming a triangle around the pond._

_"General Iroh," Zhao said with a bored sigh. "Why am I not surprised to discover your treachery?" _

_Iroh lowered his hood. "I'm no traitor, Zhao. The Fire Nation needs the moon, too. We all depend on the balance." He pointed a finger at the admiral and thundered, "Whatever you do to that spirit I will unleash on you ten-fold!" He assumed a firebending stance. "Let it go, now!" _

Iroh and Zhao locked eyes and, after a moment, Zhao faltered, finally releasing the koi back into the water. The red light of the moon vanished, returning to its normal colour, and Katara breathed a silent sigh of relief. But then Zhao's face contorted with rage and his hand came down, smiting the water with a hot blast of fire. The moon winked out of existence and Katara almost gasped in horror.

What had he done?

Iroh sprang into action immediately, crossing the foot bridge and attacking with blast after blast, effortlessly despatching Zhao's men. Zhao watched the general's blinding assault and quickly fled back towards the city.

With a defeated look on his face, Iroh turned back to the pond and knelt. The black fish was swimming frantically while the white koi floated lifelessly to the surface; there was a huge gash in its side. Iroh gently lifted the white fish from the water, an expression of utter sadness on his face.

_"There's no hope now," Yue whispered. "It's over." _

Katara's heart clenched in irrevocable sorrow. The Moon Spirit was dead? It couldn't be. But she could feel it, could feel the absence of the moon and the loss of her bending.

Was everything already lost?

She wanted to call out, to return to her world as quickly as possible. But that is what the spirits wanted. This was her test, the penalty she had to pay—forced to watch her friends and her brother face danger alone while she was helpless to intervene.

She had to continue on.

**۵**

KATARA'S HEART WAS heavy, and she wondered if that was what made her legs feel so leaden. She felt like she was wading through molasses; each step was more labouring than the last. The fog had returned; no longer green but greying brown. Sepia. The colours of the celestial waters had changed too and that was when Katara realised every colour represented an interval in time: future, present and now the past.

The celestial waters, with their dying hint of green, began to weave a scene. She saw herself standing next to Aang on the river bank. They were practising waterbending.

_"This is a pretty basic move but it still took me months to perfect, so don't be frustrated if you don't get it right away," she said to Aang with an encouraging smile. "Just push and pull the water like this." She began to bob gracefully back and forth, the water on the river edge moving back and forth with her. "The key is getting the wrist movement right."_

_Aang began imitating her. "Like this?"_

_"That's almost right. If you keep practising, I'm sure eventually—" _

_"Hey, I'm bending it already!" Aang began to move around a respectable-sized wave of water, and she opened her mouth in shock._

_"Wow, I can't believe you got that so quickly," she said, looking a little unhappy. "It took me two months to learn that move."_

_"Well, you had to figure it out on your own," reasoned Aang. "I'm lucky enough to have a great teacher."_

Katara frowned, remembering the envy she had felt at the time. She really did not want to watch this scene for some reason. It made her feel uncomfortable and she didn't care to discover why.

_"So, what's next?" _

_"This is a more difficult move," she said. "I call it 'streaming the water'." She moved her hands and pulled out of a stream of water from the river and began to loop it around. "It's harder than it looks so don't be disappointed if—"_

Her past-self stopped mid-sentence, seeing that Aang had already mastered the move. Begrudgingly, she showed him a new technique, a harder one and one that she hadn't yet mastered. But where she failed, Aang succeeded.

Standing on the bridge Katara could only frown while she observed the sour look on her own face. Was she that jealous back then, that insecure?

The images jumped around and Katara saw herself back by the river with Aang while he was holding open the waterbending scroll for her to read.

_"The single water whip," she read aloud. "Looks doable."_

She raised a stream of water and whipped it around, but it hit her in the forehead, leaving a bruise. Sokka, who was sitting cross-legged on a rock behind her, laughed.

_"What's so funny!" she snapped._

_"I'm sorry but you deserve that." He turned to look at Aang. "You've been duped. She's only interested in teaching herself."_

Katara grimaced and a cold knot of shame formed in the pit of her stomach to accompany her temporary dormant fear. Sokka was right; she had only been interested in teaching herself at the time. She couldn't help but think how selfish she could be with Aang and Sokka. Since when had she become like this? Her mother would be so disappointed in her.

_"Argh! Why can't I get this stupid move!" She stomped her foot in annoyance._

_"You'll get it," Aang said reassuringly, but she only looked displeased with his pronouncement. Aang then formed the water whip correctly on the first try. "You just gotta shift your weight through the stances." He gracefully manipulated the whip for a few seconds and then dropped it back into the river. "There. See, the key to bending is—"_

_"Will you PLEASE shut your air hole! Believe it or not, your infinite wisdom gets a little old sometimes. Why don't we just throw the scroll away since you're so naturally gifted!" _

Katara closed her eyes in embarrassment and shame, bringing her hands to her mouth to stifle any sound from coming out.

Did she really say that to him? Did she really look like that? Her envy and her insecurities were all laid out so brazenly before her. What must Zuko be thinking? He must believe her to be a total nutcase, if he didn't assume that already.

But she didn't have the time to dwell on such trivial matters now. Sure, she was humbled, but to dwell any longer meant she did only think about herself, and that wasn't right. That wasn't who she was.

She had to keep moving.

More images appeared and she took a step forward, and then another. It was hard to watch her past and now she was surrounded by images began to form a familiar pattern and, as the scene played out, Katara's breath hitched in her throat.

It was a piece of her past that she did not want to relive, something she did not wish to ever experience again, but had to. There was no turning back now. So she swallowed hard and watched the painful scene unfold, knowing now why Zuko had been so afraid to relive his past . . .

She saw a young Sokka popping his head out from a snow fort only to have a snowball smashed in his face. The culprit, a young Katara, giggled as she watched her older brother try to heave a snowball as big as his body. He was about to throw it, or have it fall back down on his face, when he looked up. Katara glanced up, too. Black snow was raining down on them like soot.

_"I'm going to find Mom," she said, running past Sokka._

Young Katara weaved her way through the crowd. She was so tiny she was almost trampled on. But as the warriors rushed past her towards the icy shore, Katara soundlessly slipped inside her family's hut, pushing aside the curtains.

"_Mom!"_

Her words died in her throat when she saw her mother on her knees in front of a Fire Nation soldier. The man turned to look at young Katara and older Katara felt the familiar fear return to her stomach, but this time it was accompanied with pure hatred. This was the man who had killed her mother.

_"Just let her go," her mother pleaded, "and I'll give you the information you want."_

_"You heard your mother." The Fire Nation soldier motioned towards the exit. "Get out of here!"_

_Katara looked over her mother's shoulder, frightened. "Mom, I'm scared."_

_"Go find your dad, sweetie," she said. "I'll handle this." _

A reluctant Katara looked up at the soldier, who stared down at her fiercely. Little Katara turned, pushing past the curtains and running out of the house as fast as she could, as fast as her feet could carry her. She stopped at the edge of a small hill and looked down, spotting her father.

_"Dad! Dad!" Hakoda was throwing a firebending soldier hard into the snow but glanced up at the sound of his daughter's voice. "Please, I think Mom's in trouble! There's a man in our house." _

_Her father didn't even wait, letting go of the soldier immediately. "Kya!"_

They both ran back home, Katara behind her father as he pulled back the curtains.

_"Mom?"_

The pain was as immediate as it was soul-annihilating. It felt as though a knife had been plunged into her heart, twisted so that it would never heal. She never wanted to see this again, but here it was, frozen in time to be displayed in front of her. It was a reminder of her mother's sacrifice.

She wanted to turn away; she wanted so badly to escape inside herself and let the pain consume her, but she couldn't. Spirits above and below, she wanted to—how she wanted to—but such luxuries could not be afforded to her, not now. So with a broken and bleeding heart, Katara moved forward into the abyss.

**۵**

**۵**

**۵**

ZUKO WATCHED AS Katara's shoulders trembled. But her head was held high and she stared straight ahead as she took a shaky step forward and then another.

He wouldn't admit it but he was amazed by her conviction. His mother had left him, yes, but he had never witnessed her death; never saw her burnt, lifeless body laid out bare before him. This was just plain cruel, and he now understood why she hated him, why when she thought of the Fire Nation she pictured his face.

He felt this unexplainable need to reach out to her, to put his hand on her shoulder and tell her it was okay to cry; to tell her that her mother had died for her and that was the greatest sacrifice a parent could ever make. But he couldn't. He couldn't do anything and he couldn't say anything to make her feel better. He was powerless and it angered him more than anything.

His dry eyes returned to her back, watching her shoulders square once more with that dogged determination that she wore like a trademark—no, like a banner. She was strong and tenacious; she was like him in some ways but stronger, so much stronger.

The Fire Nation took her mother away like they took his. It was something they had in common.

**۵**

**۵**

**۵**

KATARA COULD SEE the light at the end of the bridge, a faint glow in the distance.

Her steps seemed lighter now and she almost raced towards the exit, still watching her footing as she went. But then the light went out and the fog lifted and lowered, curling around her; not the water but the fog. It invaded her, consumed her every pore, blurring her vision until she was blindly trudging forward.

And as suddenly as it had begun, it had ended. The fog once more parted like curtains, and a thin strip opened down the bridge. At the end she saw the soft glow of the exit and something else, something far more heart-stopping.

It was her mother.

Her body trembled. Of course it wasn't going to be easy. She wasn't just going to be shown images of her future, present and past and simply be expected to leave. She was going to be tempted, _really_ tempted by the solid-looking image of her mother standing right in front of her.

She was so close that Katara could hear her breathing, smell the gentle fragrance of her hair.

"Katara." Her mother's voice was so soft and gentle, exactly how she remembered it.

Katara's own voice was strangled in her throat and she blinked back tears. It was a trick, she told herself. It had to be. Her mind screamed at her to not trust this image, that Zuko's soul depended on her actions. She could not break now when she had come this far. But her mother looked so real, so solid and alive. She could see the rise and fall of her chest, the wind blowing through her hair, and the wet tears welling in her eyes.

"Katara, come to me. It's so cold down here without you."

That did it.

A gasp and a whimper escaped past Katara's lips and she clamped her hands over her mouth, tears streaming with abandon. Did she speak, did she call out? She didn't know. But the look on her mother's face didn't make matters better. Katara could already feel her hands leaving her face, her arms reaching out towards her mother, her lips parting open to speak.

But suddenly she stopped.

Katara wanted this; she wanted this more than life itself. But it was not her soul she was gambling with; it was Zuko's. Her mother, her real mother would never want her to do this. She would never ask Katara to sacrifice someone else for her own happiness. Squaring her shoulders, Katara let her hands fall limply to her sides, along with her tears, and continued on.

Her bottom lip wobbled. She could feel the cold mist as she brushed past her mother's form, feel her own tears freely spill down her cheeks and neck.

_I'm sorry, Mom. I love you. I love you so much. _

She looked ahead, her vision blurred by tears, and continued walking until she could no longer feel her mother's presence.

That was when she finally saw the stairs, a set of white steps leading up into the clouds. And as she draws nearer, the exit began to glow brightly. She raised a foot on the step and then another, ascending, and suddenly she saw Yue bathed in white, floating down towards her.

_Yue?_

The princess was reaching out and Katara dumbly lifted her own hand to grasp the young woman's. The touch was misty but warm, slowly growing solid. Katara studied the hand for a second, no longer seeing the lightly umber-tanned skin or the dainty slender fingers. Instead, this new hand was bigger, masculine and pale. Katara looked up and her eyes widened in shock.

_Zuko?_

It was not Yue holding her hand now but Zuko. He was above her, the white backdrop of the clouds surrounding his head like a halo. He was smiling sadly, and then he was gone.

Katara screamed.

**۵**

HE WAS GONE.

Zuko was gone, sent to hell because of her!

She knew it. She could feel it in the bottom of her heart like a gaping, festering wound. She looked for him but could not find him. He was gone. The light was so bright now; it was blinding her. Everything had turned white and, against her own volition, Katara closed her eyes.

Just before slipping into the null void of unconsciousness she called Zuko's name.

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KATARA BOLTED AWAKE, gasping.

Her tunic was soaked through at the back with sweat, trapped between her coat so that the cold tingled against her wet skin. She brought a shaky hand to her face and patted it gently, as if to test that she was real. Her fingers swept up into her hairline, running through the loose tendrils that had come undone from her braid. She breathed heavily, trying to slow her rapid-beating heart and collect her thoughts.

She remembered reaching the exit, the bright light and Yue's hand reaching out for hers. She made it, she told herself. She made it back to the living world. But then another, far more worrisome thought surfaced: _Zuko_.

Katara turned, expectant to see the prince sitting up and regarding her with his trademark gloomy glare, but he was lying still on the ground where she had left him. His eyes were closed and his mouth was still open in that faint O of shock she remembered all too well.

_He looked so young._

"Zuko!"

She was up on her feet, scrambling towards his pale, prone body. She yanked apart his coat, exposing his skin to the icy elements, and put her ear against his chest. There was barely any warmth left in him, no rise and fall of his chest. Nothing. He wasn't breathing.

"This can't be happening," Katara whimpered, lifting her head as she put two fingers to the pulse of his neck. There wasn't one.

She began to panic, feeling the wash of fire and ice swimming through her veins as if being pumped by a hummingbird wings hell-bent on destroying what was left of her fragile heart. Gathering her wits, she drew water from the snow and placed her palms over his chest. She could do this, she told herself. She just needed to restart his heart, no big deal.

Her hands trembled as she bent the water, watching it glow a pale blue. She tried to remember what Yugoda had taught her about healing but her mind had gone blank. All she could focus on was his pale, lifeless face staring up at her.

This was not what she wanted.

This was _not_ what she wanted!

"Breathe, Zuko! BREATHE!"

Fresh tears stung her eyes as she concentrated, dripping down her cheeks and mixing with the healing water. Trembling fingers coated with ice caressed his skin but there was nothing, no reaction, just her cold fingers on his equally cooling skin.

"I was supposed to save you," she whispered. "I was supposed to—"

Her fingers suddenly jumped as a pulse beat rhythmically beneath her fingertips. She could feel his chi, the fire reigniting within him. His throat wobbled and he began to cough hoarsely, shifting beneath her. Golden eyes struggled to open, peeking out through long lashes, and he managed another broken cough before shakily sitting up in pain, his palm covering his throat.

Katara released a breath she hadn't known she had been holding and lunged forward, wrapping her arms around his neck. "You're alive!"

Zuko was thrown back, knocked down by the sheer force of Katara's weight, and he cried out in pain. Katara quickly disengaged herself and helped Zuko back to a sitting position. He stared at her, confused and mystified, his hand still caressing his bruised throat.

"Where am I? What happened?"

Katara's eyes widened in surprise first and then worry and suddenly she was lunging forward again, her hands on his face. But this time her lips locked onto his and his eyes bugged open in abject shock, staying that way for a half second before lazily drifting shut.

His long lashes fluttered against her cheek as her lips bruised against his with a gentle pressure. After a few seconds she slowly broke off the kiss, nudging her nose against his as she pulled back. His eyes were still closed and his mouth opened, as though he could still feel her lips on his. Soon his eyelashes shifted open and a look of bewildered recognition registered in his burnished gold eyes.

"Uh," he rasped hoarsely, trying to find his voice, "nice to see you, too?"

His good eye was as wide as a saucer plate and his hands were on her shoulders, keeping her back at arm's length in case she pounced again. Katara wasn't sure how or when his hands got there, and Zuko didn't seem to know either because suddenly he was staring down at them in dawning horror before abruptly pulling away as though she had just scalded him.

"You remember me?" Katara bit her swollen lip in anticipation.

Zuko regarded her with a baffled expression, as though she had just asked the stupidest question in the world. "Of course I do. You killed me and then hauled me out of the Spirit World." He then eyed her warily before leaning even farther back. "Why were you kissing me just now?"

"Agni said—" Katara was speaking quickly, too quickly for him to fully comprehend "—Agni said that you wouldn't remember anything when you returned to the surface and that I'd have to kiss you to make you remember and—" Realisation hit her as subtly as a lobbed brick. Her face instantly drained of colour and just as quickly flushed a bright pink. "That sneaky little bas—"

"No cursing the gods." Zuko put a finger to her lips. "It'll bring you bad luck."

Katara blushed several more shades of pink and Zuko lowered his finger, an effulgence of colour blossoming on his own cheeks.

"So that's what Lord Agni wanted to speak to you about in private?"

Katara nodded shyly. "Yeah. I guess gods like to play tricks, too."

They both turned their heads and sat on the hard, cold ground in silence until Katara finally worked up the courage to look at Zuko's face again. She noted the ropey scar on his neck with a slight frown.

"I can heal that for you, if you want." Katara pointed to Zuko's throat and made a motion across her own neck when he gave her a look of utter bewilderment.

"Sure," he said gruffly, but she could still see the slight tint of blush on his cheeks.

She had him lie back down and she gathered the water to her palms. She placed the healing liquid over his neck and let her fingers do their work. She could already feel his chi responding to hers, the torn skin knitting itself back together, weaving over and over until the pattern was whole again. Katara then brought her hands away and smiled proudly. She had to admit she did a rather good job; there was barely a noticeable line on his throat now.

Zuko sat up and put his hand to his throat, examining it. A faint smile surfaced on his lips when he could no longer feel the ropey bump that was there before. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." She smiled and rose to her feet, and he stood with her.

There was an awkward tension between the two of them now, not animosity but something else entirely. Katara wondered if they should talk about what just happened but reconsidered, thinking maybe it was best this way. They both talked enough at Varuna's palace, and they had both seen enough of each other's pasts to last a lifetime.

Soft rays of sunlight suddenly peek their way through the opening of the cave and both of them turned towards the light. The storm appeared to have passed; it was clear outside. The rising of the sun enticed them, tempting them to leave the comfort of the cave.

Once outside Katara could see the moon still hanging in the sky, paling in the brightness of the overshadowing sun. Aang and the others must have saved the day somehow. She smiled at the thought, knowing she should have never doubted her friends. The moon still existed, cohabiting with the sun in the same sky, if only for a little while—much like her and Zuko. She took in a deep breath of the fresh air and grinned at the thought.

"Do you think we could have been friends?" she suddenly blurted, and Zuko looked down at her with eyes that seemed to glow in the reflecting sunlight.

"Is that all you good guys care about—friendship?"

"That and saving the world from pompous princes who think they're above everyone else."

"Meet a lot of those types, huh?"

"All the time."

Both tried to hold a straight face for as long as they could but eventually gave in with the ghost of grins before turning away. There was tension and embarrassment and definitely awkward silence, but it really wasn't all that bad, Katara thought. But then she could feel Zuko's eyes on her and the back of her neck became unbearably hot.

"No."

Katara looked up, nonplussed. "No, what?"

"No, I don't think we could have been friends," Zuko answered truthfully. "Not before you killed me, anyway."

"And now?"

"Now?" He contemplated the idea for a moment and nodded slightly. "Maybe."

He turned his head to catch her eye and smiled a tiny, private smile. She felt a sudden jolt inside her heart, noting the glimmer of appreciation in his eyes, and she returned his smile with a curt nod of understanding.

"After all, you did risk your eternal karma for me," Zuko said, trying to restrain a smirk. "I'd hate to have to come fetch you from the Spirit World later on down the road."

Katara stared up at him slack-jawed for a moment before slapping his arm. "Good to hear you've gained a sense of humour through all of this, _Your Highness_," she congratulated through gritted teeth, and Zuko shoulders began to shake with repressed laughter.

"It's all thanks to you, Water Peasant," he said with a chortle, as he dodged her tiny fists and spun away.

A dark shadow fell across the tundra and both Katara and Zuko stopped their struggle and glanced skywards. A large white object was streaking across the sky and Katara let out a sigh of relief at the all-too-familiar sight of Appa coming into view. The giant sky bison dove towards the ground, landing gracefully on the snow with a grunt. Aang had already floated off Appa's neck while Sokka leapt out of the saddle, accompanied by a surprisingly nimble Iroh.

"Katara!" the airbender cried happily, running towards her.

"Aang!" Katara's arms were already wrapped around the Avatar, pulling him into a tight hug before she moved onto her brother, smiling into his neck. "Sokka!"

The three pulled apart and glanced over at Zuko in surprise. Aang had a goofy grin on his face that Katara was sure wouldn't disappear any time soon while Sokka's brow had furrowed so deeply it seemed to have disappeared into the bridge of his nose.

"Isn't he supposed to be dead?" He hooked his thumb in Zuko's direction and Katara swatted his hand down.

"Nephew!" Iroh exclaimed with great relief, finally having caught up. He threw his arms around a half-protesting Zuko, who finally gave in and returned his uncle's embrace. Finally, Iroh released him, holding the young prince back at arm's length, examining him for any serious signs of injury before smiling. "Praise the spirits you are alive!"

Iroh pulled Zuko in for another hug and the prince smiled softly, awkwardly patting his uncle's back before pulling away. "Uncle, what happened? Where's Zhao?"

Iroh's expression darkened. "Admiral Zhao is dead. His fleet is retreating as we speak."

Zuko shook his head in disbelief. "But how?"

"This young Avatar here." Iroh turned, motioning to a now crest-fallen Aang. The airbender looked both sad and guilty. "It's a long story," his uncle continued. "I will have to tell you over tea sometime, and hopefully you will tell me _your_ story." He spared a brief glance at Katara before turning back to his nephew, offering him a knowing wink, which only made Zuko frown.

"Wait," Katara suddenly cried out, circling in the snow. "Where's Yue?" She wasn't on Appa; she hadn't come with them.

"She sacrificed herself so that Tui could live." Sokka's face was pale with sorrow. "She's the Moon Spirit now."

Aang put a hand on the older boy's arm and looked up at Katara with sad grey eyes. "It probably doesn't make a lot of sense, but—"

"No, it makes perfect sense." It was Yue who had reached for her at the end; it was Yue who brought her and Zuko safely home. "Sokka, I'm so sorry."

Her hand was on his other arm, caressing it gently, and he lowered his head for a moment and sighed before regarding his sister with eyes as blue as hers. "I'm just glad you're safe."

"Me too," Aang added, and Katara smiled sadly.

"Prince Zuko?"

Katara turned to see Iroh addressing the already retreating prince.

"What's the matter, Fire Prince?" Sokka taunted. "Not going to try to capture Aang here now that you know what my sister can do to you?"

"Sokka!" She felt a blush of anger and shame settle on her cheeks.

"No, we're even for now." Zuko nodded back at the city behind them. "You go back to your victory celebration. I'm sure they're waiting for you all."

He was about to turn to leave when Katara broke away from her brother and Aang, taking a bold step forward. "Zuko, I—"

"We'll meet again, Waterbender," he said, a hint of that private smile on his lips, and she was unable to stop her own smile in return.

"Yeah." She nodded. "See you soon, Your Highness."

Katara raised her hand in farewell and he returned it briefly before finally turning away. She lowered her arm and watched him leave with his uncle—to where, she did not know. Would he try to capture Aang again? She did not know this, either; she didn't really know anything right now. But she remembered the glimpses of her future; she remembered the lightning he would take for her and because of that she smiled.

She couldn't explain why but she knew the gamble she took was worth it; she knew she had made the right choice. She would see this lonely prince again, in this lifetime or the next. For in both life and death their souls were now inextricably bound.

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THE WHITE-HAIRED GODDESS smiled, watching the scene unfold in the celestial waters with alert blue eyes.

"The ocean meets the sky and worlds collide," said Agni, leaning over Varuna's shoulder as he watched the teenagers part ways. "Do you think it was wise to allow this girl to return with him to the living?"

The pale-haired goddess lifted her chin to meet her companion's golden eyes. "The moon would be very bored indeed without the sun constantly vying for control, my dear Agni. You above all should know that." She reached out and lovingly caressed his cheek. "Let the worlds collide, I say."

Agni smiled, pressing his soft lips into her palm. "Forever and ever, my queen."

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_"The gates of Hell are open night and day; smooth the descent and easy is the way._  
_But to return and view the cheerful skies; in this the task and mighty labour lies."_

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_**~ fin ~**_

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**Author's notes: **And that's all she wrote, folks! I had a blast writing this and hope you all enjoyed it, too. I'd like to thank jesterry for her inspiring prompts and hope she liked this humble Zutara gift o' mine. (Sorry, I just couldn't write a lemon for this one.) **ღ**

* Some of the dialogue from Katara's flashbacks and flashforwards were taken from 'Sozin's Comet: Part 3', 'Siege of the North: Part 2', 'The Waterbending Scroll' and 'The Southern Raiders'.

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✼ **HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE**❢** AND A FABULOUS NEW YEAR**❢ ✼

**ღ ღ ღ**


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